I love this world!
by WhitePrincessPrussia
Summary: After Hetalia, you just can't help it: You develop a special relationship to every country...Don't you agree? ReaderxNation
1. You're It! :Cowboy Alfred

_**You're it!**_

_Cowboy!AlfredxReader_

* * *

><p>„Alfie, come on, catch me if you can! " You yelled, erupting in cheerful, yet challenging, laughter.<p>

How you loved these afternoons when you could forget about taking care of the animals, behaving properly and being what your parents expected you to be. It wasn't always easy to be a young girl in times like this; when girls are expected to serve the males, and doing the house work. Especially since your family wasn't exactly rich and thus you had to do work that probably wasn't suitable for a girl at all – but the other option was to marry while you were still a child, barely eight. That just wouldn't do; even _your _parents could see that.

So, like usual, you had been done with the work on your family's field quite early, waiting for your best friend – only friend – to show up. While there weren't many children your age around the town, you didn't really mind; you had Alfred, after all. And the attention he demanded would have been enough for twelve children, so you were equally busy as you'd have been with a bunch of friends. Over the years of knowing him, it had become a ritual to meet after finishing your chores. Alfred, though, always took a bit longer because he had to walk all the way from his family's range to the little town you lived in. Not that it took long. It was only a walk about maybe ten minutes and since Alfred was a fast runner, he usually made it in five minutes, tops.

Upon spotting the young boy with his golden hair, you just yelled the same as every day, telling him to catch you while already running off as fast as you could.

Of course, knowing the routine, the energetic American had already started sprinting too, chasing after you with a happy laugh, "I will [_Name_], I always do!"

"You're it!" And truly; after dashing and racing a bit more, he had tackled you and held you down on the soft grass beneath you. Both of you giggled and laughed, until Alfred (being the smart-arse he loved to be whenever he won a game) exclaimed, "Y'know, [_Name_], you're never gonna win this when you keep being lame like that!"

You faked a pout, acting sulky though you really weren't at all – he always won tag. The fact that you always won hide and seek made up for that, in your opinion. "Aren't you supposed to be nice to ladies? Momma told me that guys are supposed to be gentleman!"

"[_Name_]," The boy whined, rolling his eyes playfully, "You sound just like dadda!"

"Maybe that means I am right…?" You grinned toothily while getting up and pushing the boy softly off of you.

"We're eight, [_Name_]," He said, childishly crossing his arms over his chest, "You're barely a lady yet. Nor will you ever be."

You tried to send him a pointed glare, but found yourself laughing loudly soon. Well, he did have a point there – except for hair and dress, nothing differed you from all these other farm and worker boys around town.

Alfred suddenly grinned sheepishly, probably feeling a bit bad about his other remark (though he did have a point…) and, with a merry glint in his eyes, he stood and bowed, "Well, ma'am, would you perhaps join me for a delightful game of hide-and-coop?"

You giggled, barely containing your laughter – not just did it seem strange to hear that as a tomboyish eight-year-old, but also did it appear awfully out of place when Alfred said it; who was not just too young to act like that, but also seemed to clash with this display character wise.

"I'd like that a lot, kind sir. Shall I start?" You said, letting him help you up before you bobbed a curtsey.

"But yes, ma'am, please do start."

You both stared at each other before the both of you giggled.

* * *

><p>You grinned at the blue-eyed boy – pardon, teen – with a little grin.<p>

So, you hit puberty a while ago and now you are already fourteen. Obviously, Alfred was just that exact age now, too. And yet…

"Wow," You chuckled, eyes glinting mischievously, "Must suck to be that small."

Now, let's explain; since Alfred had to be trained in order to become a cowboy so he could undertake the duties of his father once he won't be able to do the work himself. For that, his father sent him to a distant relative. Which is why you hadn't seen Alfred for four years and you only wrote letters. He told you many times how he hated that he just couldn't seem to hit puberty and grow a few centimetres. But you had no clue it was that bad.

You weren't exactly the tallest fourteen-year-old, but it was fairly funny that Alfred F. Jones managed to be smaller than you. His eyes barely reached your nose and that amused you beyond words. Especially since he actually looked like a guy who hit puberty perfectly: adult face, no baby fat left and even some muscles from his hard work. But his _height_ made you laugh. So, so much. It's about time for him to grow some.

"Just don't," He grumbled, for once looking rather pissed, "One day, I'll be at least one head taller than you are!"

You just crooked a smile, "Sure, sure."

Avoiding the subject now, you decided to play some board games in order to kill some time. Outside rain poured as if the apocalypse arrived.

Since this was only like a _holiday_ for Alfred and he'd only be around for two weeks before resuming with his apprenticeship.

With a little grin, he had remarked that, so to speak, you were his 'vacation dalliance'. You had just rolled your eyes and playfully slapped his arm, reminding him that he was home here too, and that he should just hurry so he could come back to live here again, soon.

* * *

><p>You breathed heavily, trying to catch your breath and calm you pounding heart.<p>

Okay, so, maybe it was childish that a sixteen-year-old played tag. Then again, this was something you just felt the urge to do. Call it melancholy, but it reminded you of when things were easier. When your parents didn't try to engage you to some guy you never saw before. It helped against the stress to play with Alfred, who once again had a smaller vacation. This time, about three weeks. And you were determined to forget your problems at least for the time Alfred was over.

The American now was barely two centimetres smaller than you were – not that it would stop you from teasing him about it. He did look – you had to admit that much – cute. And yes, you knew you had a tiny crush on him. How could it be any different? After all, he reminded you of everything in your life that had ever been easy and fun and joyful.

You could suddenly hear somebody's footfalls and you startled, your thoughts cut off. With your cheeks slightly dusted in pink, you turned to see Alfred approaching fast. Eyes widening a fraction, you resumed running again, though you knew it was pointless.

Alfred always won this.

And that was, when you were tackled to the ground and held in place by two strong arms.

"[_Name_], you're it!" The American said, grinning happily.

You grinned right back at him, gladly accepting his help as he extended his hand. Once up, he locked eyes with you.

"So…" You looked at him quizzically as he trailed off; he suddenly smirked somewhat evilly, "You still are too lame to stand a chance against me."

"Alfie!" You said, pouting and hitting his arm, "Is that your way of treating a lady?"

"A lady? Where?" He asked, looking around for one before resuming, "I cannot find one."

Hitting his arm again, you just grinned in reply, "Why, Mister Jones, you just can't behave, can you?"

"Well, I can if I just wanna." He argued, though obviously in a playful way.

"As if." You argued with a silent challenge in your eyes.

He grinned. In an evilly (sexily) way that made you shiver. Just what was that guy up to?

Suddenly, he kneeled, took your hand firmly in his and kissed – like a real gentleman, just softly your knuckles, only for one second making contact.

Your skin tingled and you could only nod as he asked you to play hide and seek with him in a parlance that did not suit him; and yet, strangely did.

* * *

><p>It was time for Alfred to leave again, though he promised and swore to you that these two years ahead of them were the last two before he was all done and could take over his father's jobs at the range. You told him to better do that.<p>

"Well, [_Name_], just to make sure you remember. Next time, I _will_ be taller than you."

You grinned a cheeky grin, "I look forward to see that, cowboy."

A cute blush dusted his face upon that nickname and you couldn't help it.

You leant forward and kissed his cheek ever so softly and short, leaving him stunned and stuttering.

"Be careful."

* * *

><p>You knew since then, that you definitely liked Alfred more than a friend.<p>

And you were also sure that it was more than a crush, too. You were head over heels.

That's the problem.

It was the time of the _'Wild, wild west'_ and yes, there were stereotypical sheriffs, stereotypical cowboys and stereotypical crooks. The thing was just, there were also still forced marriage, and that was your parent's idea. Granted, you were surprised they even waited for you to turn seventeen, but you couldn't accept it. Not just did it speak against everything that was you, but also were you too deeply in love to stay, marry that man and then watch how your best friend one day marries and is lucky while you eternally hate yourself, your husband, your whole family.

Instead, you flew. You ran. You skived off.

Did you really have a choice?

To you, it didn't seem that way, period.

And that's why you ended up with the mentioned 'stereotypical' crooks. Not that it was that bad – they could use a young female for a lot of plans they had. (And definitely nothing that would include them touching you. Somewhere along the line, these three were more the brothers you never had.)

Currently, there was that rumour of a rich young lady staying in hotel in your hometown. While you didn't really anticipate the idea of going back there, you only had to watch Gilbert's back while he went to get the lady. Also, you'd be with the other two participants of your quartet, Antonio and Francis.

The wealthy lady turned out to be quite nice, actually, but only towards you as you talked to her. Problems with her husband. She looked too young to be married, you thought, but reminded yourself of what would have been your fate.

You couldn't help but think that Gilbert did try to hit on her a lot – love at first sight? Or did they know each other from somewhere?

You shrugged it off because it wasn't your business and you wouldn't change that. No need to get nosy or attached – she'd be away again as soon as her husband paid for her.

Well, that was what you hoped for. However, something completely different happened.

* * *

><p>Funnily, you had more money now than with your family – sure, you weren't rich, but it paid off to play for the bad side. Thus, your dress was rather new and comfortable, yet looking good. In the dress, you actually felt like a female – and god knew that didn't happen often to you.<p>

You had been chatting with Elizaveta (whose husband was soon to come and get her, most likely) but she now drifted off to sleep, leaving you to your thoughts.

The evening was rather chilly, you noted, but not really cold yet. The bonfire blazed silently, only occasionally you could hear the faint 'crack' that was characteristic for a campfire.

"So that's why I haven't found you…" You heard a whisper that sounded caught between sadness and disappointment. You lifted your eyes in shock.

Oh.

Oh…

Oh no!

"Alfred F. Jones," You said, whispering too, not knowing on which terms you were; friends, acquaintances, strangers? "Just, what can I do for you?"

"Maybe tell me what you are doing here."

You stared at him.

He was still as dashing as you remembered.

Tall _('h-he actually is bigger than I am…?')_ but with defined muscles. Messy, fair hair. Blue eyes – so, so blue. Cerulean blue; that was darkened with an emotion you couldn't quite put a finger on.

"I-I…." You stopped, thinking – why were you stuttering? These three men were your family and you had been with them for three years! Why should you be ashamed of that? "What does it look like? I am making my life what I want it to be!"

"You want to be a filthy c—"

"Watch. Your. Mouth!" You yelled, shocking the American, "They treat me better than my parents ever did. So, I didn't want to marry that guy my parents tried to sell me to. So what?!"

That shut him – hadn't he known the whole story?

Well, now he did.

"I…Oh," Alfred said, looking at you apologetically, "Well, [_Name_], it's just…I missed you."

A careful smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, "It's okay. Was that why you came here? To bring me home?"

He nodded in affirmation.

"The thing is…I just don't want to," you said, almost as if to say sorry, "But I actually like my life the way it is now."

There was a silence between you and you didn't know whether this was an awkward silence or a comfortable one. It was one that was somewhere in between.

Then, Alfred broke it as he extended his hand. You stared at It confused before taking it and let him help you up like you always used to.

However, he did not let go of your hand; he intertwined his fingers with yours. As you looked up, you noticed that he indeed was taller than you were and you had to grin at that. Realising it, too, he grinned right back. Nevertheless he grew serious again, though he did have a tender smile on his face.

"I've been wrong, you know…" He mumbled, his forehead resting against yours.

You felt your heart pound in your chest, almost awfully fast. As your face grew hot, Alfred simply carried on.

"You did grow to be a lady," Your whole face was bright red; however you were glad that Alfred also was slightly flushed, "And such a beautiful one…"

"A-Alfie…" You mumbled, only millimetres were your lips away from his.

Closing the gap, your lips connected; and what you tasted was purely Alfred.

The kiss was gentle, careful, whispering all the _'I love you'_s that you've been dying to hear from him. For your taste, it also was too short, but on the other hand, you could always repeat this, right?

"Please, [_Name_], let me love you. Come home." He pleaded, begged.

"I'd love to, but…It's just that I don't know where my home is." You said, sadly, trying to make him understand.

"[_Name_], if you gave me a chance… Then I could be you're home…"

And right as the words left his lips you realised something. He didn't need that chance because he's always been your home already. Every good memory, every smile, every laughter – it was always a memory with Alfred.

You stared at him and he probably saw the answer in your eyes, because he hugged you as close as possible, whispering 'Thank you' all over again and again and again.

Your friends will understand, you told yourself; and you knew they would, because you loved them and they loved you. Platonically, obviously.

Stroking his hair softly, you hummed happily, "Sometimes I wonder how I deserve you."

Alfred just chuckled, "That's quite obvious, darling."

"Huh?" You were confused and definitely interested in his answer, "Tell me, then."

"Because," he said, lowering his lips down to yours and stopping mere millimetres away from yours, "You're it, [_Name_]."

Your lips met.


	2. No More: France&England

_**No More**_

Request: _FrancexReaderxEngland_

* * *

><p><em>You say we'll work it out, then you say you're having doubts.<em>

Thinking about it, there was no denying.

No matter how often Francis dumbed you, no matter how often the two of you broke up, you always ended up running to Arthur. Cuddling him, letting him pet your hair. He'd always cheer you up; kiss your cheek, telling you everything will get better eventually. Thinking about it twice, it really wasn't fair, was it?

_Tell me walk away, but then you'll go insane._

Arthur didn't like how Francis.

You knew that he was over-protective about you. He always was. You really had no clue to the why, it simply was like this and you accepted it. Never once you even thought about what made the usually rather cold Brit warm up when it came to you, or why he always listened to your problem which always happened to include your 'beloved' boyfriend.

_Calling me day and night, saying he don't treat you right._

One time, Francis cheated on you with two women.

Of course, you were really sad and angry and confused and so many other things. You just couldn't understand; you were not stupid, not ugly, and not bitchy. What was his problem? Francis got you to the point where you thought to yourself how very stupid you were. How very ugly, how very unloved. He'd never say that straight into your face, but with his damn cheating and his entire behavior towards you as soon as his best friends were around? They spoke more than that few sentences he could have said.

"He's nothing but a fucking jerk!" you whined into Arthur's shirt.

_Then you always turn around and give him one more chance._

But he's a cute jerk, right?

You couldn't help it. The very moment he remembered you and the fact that he actually had a girlfriend, he'd be in front of your door, a bouquet in his left hand, chocolate in his right hand, kneeling before you, kissing your hand, begging for forgiveness. You'd always be hesitant about taking him back. But he'd whisper sweet nothing nesses, embracing you, kissing your forehead. You were always aware of the fact that he'd cheat and break your heart all over again. Still, your answer was always a yes.

_Baby you know it isn't fair, you'll send me to be there._

After you made up again, you'd always spent every single free second with Francis. And the French his with you. For those next weeks, you'd be all lovey-dovey again. You'd ignore your friends, even Arthur, only having eyes for your little Frenchie.

_But we'd never get no-where._

After that lovey-dovey time, you'd argue again, and you'd cry again for hours. You'd cry yourself to sleep in Arthur's arms. You were so glad you had your best friend, who'd always embrace you and hold you tight. Very little did you know that said friend loved you even more deeply than you'd ever love Francis.

_I've got one foot out the door, I don't wanna hear about him no more._

"I've had enough of this," the Brit yelled at you, "Now that he decided to care for you again, you run off, ignore your friends and pretend your life is perfect!"

You stared at him in shock. Never once had Arthur reacted like that after you told him that you were Francis' girlfriend again.

"No, go and kiss him and hug him and do whatever with him! But don't come back crying tears that you might as well have saved! I swear, if you come to me and say his name ever again, I won't be able to be your best friend anymore. "

_I'll make along so we shall, time to make up your mind girl._

This argument saddened you. A lot. And it wouldn't get better after this. You tried to spent time with Arthur even through you were Francis' girlfriend. One might think this couldn't be all too hard, but both of them hated each other and you were trapped in the middle. You knew they both waited for a decision. One that you simply couldn't make.

_No more back and forth, I don't wanna hear about him no more._

You tried to avoid the subject 'Francis' around Arthur. You tried really, really hard. But sometimes you just slipped. Arthur ignored, or at least tried it. But you knew he was still furious about everything.

"Hey, what do you think? We could go to the park and do our homework there."

"I can't, I…" you mumbled, 'have a date with Francis', you added in your mind.

You knew that Arthur understood trough.

His expression darkened, and his smile fell. He nodded stiffly, getting up, gathering his things and bidding you farewell with a bow of his head.

"Just give me some time!" you yelled after him. You knew it was wrong to be with Francis, but you just couldn't let him go.

_If I'm not what you want, I don't wanna hear no more._

He had been more defensive after that, and sometimes he'd actually ignore you completely, or answer the way you'd answer a stranger. You couldn't find that fair. Without a reason, he began to be like this. Normally, you would have confronted him, wanting to know what was wrong with him. But like mentioned above, you had a date with Francis.

_Stop telling me you need more time, tired of the same old line._

"Arthur, open that door, I now you're there!" you shouted, while knocking.

Still, he wouldn't open the door. You growled. That wasn't fair. He wouldn't even talk to you!

"Arthur, if you're mad because of 'him', I can't help it! Give me some time to get things straight. I still love him too much, you know I can't leave him!"

"I'm tired of that old shit. Just leave me be if you can't get away from that jerk." He yelled back.

He still wouldn't open his door for you.

_Better make a move or you are gonna find, are you taking it._

You shook your head, saddened by the result of your attempt to explain yourself. It had been a failure, and things were possibly even worse. You sighted sadly, turning around, leaving him. Again. Not just physically but also mentally when you're phone vibrated and you got a text from Francis.

Once you began to read, there was no Arthur in your mind anymore.

_Cos you know it's wrong, better let him know it's time to go your moving on._

Arthur watched you leaving. He was quite sure who you'd go to know, who'd embrace you, laying his dirty fingers onto your small frame. To say it pissed him off was a lie. No, he accepted. But he knew it was time for you to move on. Even if Arthur love had been unrequited ever since, he at least would have wished that his former best friend was smart enough to look for a good partner, and not one that couldn't care less about her. It may be that Francis loved her in the beginning, but now she was only the girl he had when another one left him.

_Baby you don't know how close I am to being gone._

Arthur now got his attention to where it belonged: his cartons. He was already half way done with packing his stuff. He's move to his older brother Ian. He couldn't watch this misery anymore. It was time to leave, even stubborn Arthur finally realized.

_Really known you long enough,_

Even in kindergarten, he had loved you. During all those years of knowing you, it became worse. You were the only person that ever made him smile genuinely. Sadly enough, he wasn't that person for you too.

_I can only take so much, tell me if I have you heart._

Just once, Arthur had wanted to hear something that could have brought his hopes up. Like, "I've finally broke up with Francis." Or maybe even, "I'm finally giving up."

It would have been enough to make him stay. But he knew luck wouldn't be his. It would never if it came to you.

You may have told him that you also loved him often. But it was even more often that you told him that you did not love him as much as Francis.

_Baby you know it isn't fair, you expect me to be there._

He was tired of waiting. He was always waiting for you to pop up and cry your eyes out about your oh-so-loved 'Frenchie'. Arthur was sick of listening. Sick of being that guy you only came to when you were left alone by Francis. He wouldn't wait for something that never came.

_But we never get no-where._

All those painful remarks about how cute and nice you boyfriend was, they made Arthur suffer so much. He was quite aware that you friendzoned him and to him it was like the ninth circle of hell. He decided that he wouldn't go through this hell anymore. Not for you.

_If you're sure that you really love me._

Arthur shook his head. He knew that you loved him. But he also knew that it wasn't enough. Not enough to choose him instead of Francis.

_Out the door if you still don't know._

The saddest thing was that he knew that Francis only dated you to make him suffer. Because the French was an ass like that, only wanting to show Arthur that he'd never be better than Francis. But Arthur really loved you while Francis didn't. There was the big mistake in that story. It should be the other way round.

_I'll be there for you and you know it's true,_

Right now Arthur told himself that he'd leave and never see you again. But at the same time, he knew that he'd take the first flight from Dublin as soon as you called him, sobbing and crying.

_You belong to me. What you go and do _

He'd always love her. He lost his heart to her; and along with his heart; came his entire being. He'd never be able to change that, even if he never wanted to see her again, he'd always think about her.


	3. Bittersweet Symphony: Ludwig

_**Bittersweet Symphony **_

_[Pianist!GermanyxReader]_

_for Silverwing100_

* * *

><p>Fire. Cries. Pain. Blood.<p>

It all proved them so wrong. So, _so_ very wrong.

'_To protect, help, moderate, and fight'_

* * *

><p>You heard crying children, begging for their parents. You could make out ruffled moans of pain. You could feel the blood under your naked feet. Surprisingly enough, it didn't even feel weird; if something, it was warming your feet. Still, it was sickening to know what made your feet feel a bit warmer now. Actually, it made you feel your feet again; the snow and the cold did their best to make your feet numb—just like your entire body had been.<p>

_'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life_

Although you felt numb—inside as much as outside—you tried to run as fast as possible. Your legs wouldn't exactly listen to you and now and then, you slumped to the ground in a rather painful manner, making you remember that under the fluffy snow were stones and bodies. Dead bodies. Corpses. Already cold, at that, but you couldn't feel how cold exactly. In fact, they weren't that much colder than you were.

_Try to make ends meet_

Your torn and dirty dress, the one Roderich bought you so long ago, was not really helping at all; shoes weren't even there. They did not plan this out well. Whatever possessed the leader of the Germans; Hitler; was no good for this mission. You weren't a fan of him, although you spent most of your life in Germany, but you never thought that he was stupid enough for this. Sending his troops out to invade the Soviets. Without needed supplies. Warm clothes, for example, had been brought after the troops; they finally realized that it was cold in Russia! A bit too late, perhaps, since most of your comrades are dead already. It was cold—really cold, about -37°C—and you weren't able to say if your abilities as a nurse would really help anyone at all. Not that you cared anymore. There was just one person you wanted to find. One single person, important enough to gain your full attention although you could already feel death gripping your shaky, weak hands.

'How? How could this just happen?'

_You're a slave to money then you die_

Once upon a time, there was a small girl, playing with her two best friends. The small one was so very innocent, and the world was a beautiful place, although there wasn't always enough food or money or comfort. Although her parents weren't there, she could always smile at everybody. The little girl couldn't do much with her days. They weren't plain and boring through! Often, she'd visit her uncle, Roderich, a gifted pianist, to just listen to his music. Art, he would often call it, precious art that could make people happy. Uncle always looked so fancy and pretty and happy while playing! The girl smiled affectionately, she could have anything in her life; especially happiness. One could be happy without money as long as he did what made him smile!

_I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down_

However, Uncle changed when he grew to be older. He was interacting with strange people. They would want to hear him playing; they brought him a new piano, and new clothes, and they even let him move in a new, big house. Of course, since the girl's parents weren't there anymore, he took her with him. At first she was happy, with all the new attention her servants gave to her, or all the new toys she had. But, one evening when she listened to her uncle, she cried silently to herself. Uncle still played; but he didn't seem happy anymore. He seemed stressed, depressed and tired. It was that very moment, when the girl realized how one couldn't be happy, and smile all the time, and do whatever one desires to do. She had no clue why, yet. But she was determinded to figure out anyway.

_You know the one that takes you to the places_

So, the little girls asked her uncle; why weren't all the people happy out there? Why did they spend their life with work, work and work, only to get a big house and nice clothes?

The uncle, on the other hand, didn't know how to reply. He was playing piano, and it was what made him happy, right? He didn't understand the girl.

She pouted, knowing that he couldn't understand her at all; he'd seem unhappy all day, was her worried reply.

To that, there was no answer. He had no clue that she knew this much.

_Where all the veins meet yeah,_

It was her tenth birthday when she finally realized that life wasn't about happiness and peace and love. It was a harsh time in Germany, and even through her uncle was one of the very few pianists who earned at least some money, she was sent to work too. The work was hard, naturally, and she couldn't earn much, but since her uncle wasn't able to pay all their debts, she'd have to do it anyway; they already sold their house, and there wasn't much more they could do now. It took them five weeks. Five weeks, to prove her philosophy so utterly wrong. She had to think of her uncle. How his art just wouldn't sell nowadays. She wished she could at least give him some happiness, smile the smile he loved so much. But there weren't any smiles in their household anymore. All they did was working, sleeping; sometimes, if they weren't too short on money, they could also eat something.

_Well I never pray_

As an adult, you tried to forget the little girl you used to be. It wasn't just a painful memory full of tears and sadness, but it also didn't suit your current position; you decided to become a nurse for the German troops. It wasn't quite war, but you could sense it; pre-war, was what you called the situation. People were tense, Hitler was the head of state, and—most importantly—the Germans had nothing to lose; or at least the thought so. They wouldn't hesitate to fight, none of them. And you wouldn't hesitate to help those poor soldiers who would be left one the ground after being shot. To you, though, it wouldn't matter if they were Germans, French or Russians. You only wanted to help. Not to kill anyone knowingly because you refused help.

_But tonight I'm on my knees yeah_

Sometimes, you'd silently enter your uncle's current resident. It was quite large, due to the fact that he finally could write a good piece of art again. He played it every now and then at some theatres. He always claimed that he hadn't got the slightest clue why it was so famous and popular while his other tries weren't. You knew it through; he played with his heart, not with his brain. In this piece, he let all his feelings, the ones he bottled up so long; the ones that were clearly in the air, that smell of war and depression and that slight, small piece of war.

_I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah_

You'd try to eavesdrop his new pieces more often now; wanting to hear at least something familiar in this very strange world; filled with strangers and faceless, with everyone only watching his own back while trying to walk forward.

_I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now_

A small graced your lips as you heard those familiar sounds. But something was off. Although Roderich put his heart into his new pieces, he hadn't played this honestly deep-felt in a very, very long time. Shakily, you opened the door. What you saw wasn't exactly what you would have expected.

_But the airways are clean and there's nobody singing to me now_

The music stopped when you entered the room. A tall blonde sat at Roderich's usual place, playing the piano so very moving. His icy blue eyes linked with yours for a moment; you stared back, silently wishing for the music to play again. As if he heard you, he began to play again.

_'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life_

You sat down silently, closing your eyes. You felt melancholy then, all your memories flooded back; the good ones, when everything was alright and the world seemed to be inviting, full of mysterious; back then, when everyone deserved happiness, and not just a single group of all those people.

_Try to make ends meet_

Ludwig Beilschmidt.

What a beautiful name it was. He was a friend of Roderich, they met in some theatre.

Not just was he a talented pianist, but also a Sergeant Major, serving the German army. Not even once you dared to interrupt him during the playing. And even after he was done, both of you remained silent until one of you stood up to leave. And still, as if it was a silent appointment, you were always there, every second evening, listening to him.

_Try to find some money then you die_

You hadn't been wrong; Hitler finally decided to begin. He shamelessly used the Germans and their bad shape. He knew they'd do anything as long as they thought things would get better. He promised them what all politicans promised; money, happiness, heaven on earth. And all he wanted was some loyality.

_I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down_

It didn't even seem too bad for the Germans, you noted, although you hadn't been on the battlefield yet to care for the fallen soldiers. In fact, with the non-aggression pact with Russia, everything seemed to go very good for the Germans.

_You know the one that takes you to the places_

Of course, it was too early to say that. He finally decided to attack Russia. And you would go there too, as a nurse. The farewell reminded a lot of some kind of short, 'Bye, I'll have to buy some eggs at the grocery.' None of us thought we might lose. _'To protect, help, moderate, and fight'_

_Where all the things meet yeah_

The dress Roderich gave to you as a present was something you took thankfully. It wasn't just good-looking, but easy to move in and still very warm. You heard that Russia was cold. It was that very day, when you left forever.

_I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down_

You didn't really know anybody. Well, except for one, Ludwig. In fact, it was just now that you first talked to him. He was rather serious and strict, but still fun to be around. His hair was always in a neat shape, most of the time slicked back; only God knows how he managed it through. Often, the two of you would drink some beer once you made a little break for the nights. He was a bit overly patriotic, but other than that fun to be around.

_I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down_

Ludwig would often talk to his soldiers, telling them how it wouldn't be a problem; the Russian weren't just stupid, but also they withdraw and left Moscow. The cold may have been disturbing and almost painful but supplies were coming from Germany and as soon as Moscow was theirs, they wouldn't have to worry anyway! 'To protect, help, moderate, and fight! We shall prove the German army that we are in fact good soldiers!'

_Been down_

Soon enough, they all had to realize that Ludwig had been wrong. It was all well-planned. The people left were citizen, children, women and furious men. They all fought, a lot of them died. They were mad at the Germans, at Hitler. Obviously, since he told his men to make them 'suffer as much as possible'.

_Ever been down_

The Germans thought that was it, but it wasn't. No wood for a fire, like they had hoped there would be. No warm winter clothing. Nothing to be found anywhere. They all were furious. They wanted warmth; their Sergeant Major _promised _it. It was the one thing they fought for.

_Ever been down_

Soon enough, though, they found out that they wouldn't want warmth at all. A lot of them had been dieing due to the immense cold, true. But when the big fire began, the flames attempt to eat every house in record time, they all seemed to change their mind. Quickly, at that. You coughed. The smoke was invading your lungs.

_Ever been down_

You tried your best to remain on your legs, although they shivered more by every passing minute, with every time you'd let the smoke fill your lungs. Ludwig. You had to find Ludwig. The one person that could actually touch your heart despite the war, the misery, the pain.

_Ever been down_

You stumbled one final time, the ground smashing into your face. You were too weak to yelp out of pain. You simply laid there. Between those corpses. Russians, Germans, children, adults, soldiers, average citizens. It was wrong. Sickening. You closed your eyes.

_Have you ever been down?_

And it was cold. So very cold. _'To protect, help, moderate, and fight'_

Seems as if we failed, Ludwig.

You would have laughed at the sarcasm, if you still had the force over your body.

War never protected, helped or moderated. It never did.

It never would.

_Have you've ever been down?_


	4. Lips Of An Angel: Fem UK&Fem US

_**Lips of an Angel**_

_Request: Fem!UKxMale!ReaderxFem!US_

_W__arnings: Some colourful phrases ahead!_

_It's R-12_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><em>Honey why are you calling me so late?<em>

The loud ringing of your mobile awoke you rather harshly; sleepily, you tried to find it in the darkness that had occupied your room. When you could finally feel the cold mobile, you lazily deactivated the keylock and accepted the incoming call without even caring to look who called in the first place. You were quite sure you knew who it was.

"Bonne nuit, Anglaise! Quoi de neuf, _Chérie_?"

A bright grin spread across your face. Let's see what the Briton would answer to your rather sarky (and _brilliantly_ witty) attempt to speak French.

_It's kinda hard to talk right now_

There was a rather hypocritical laugh; possibly accompanied by a plastic smile. Her next words sounded rather insincere too, almost forced, "Oh, belt up! Whoever speaks this bloody language by choice is officially barmy."

"Ouch, you just hurt my feeling. Anyways, what's up? Did you kill Francis? Do you need help hiding his body?" you tried to joke, so the awkward tension would finally die, "If you just woke me up for less than this, I'd prefer it if you'd call me in the morning, y'know? Plus, I wouldn't want to wake up Amelia. You know how she is when you wake her up."

"Look who had a clown for breakfast." Came the sarcastic reply, "Jolly good, dimwit. Should I call a later time, when you're actually able to act your age?"

You flinched a bit, "Sweet, Lizzie. Really, it's always nice to talk to you."

Lizzie just snarled, "Last time I'll say this: _Belt __**the fuck**__ up_!"

It was just that moment that you realized that there wasn't just the faked joy and the sarcasm in Lizzie's voice. You're eyes widened a fraction. Was Lizzie crying…?

"Lizzie. What's wrong?"

_Honey why are you crying, is everything okay?_

"I'm not crying." Was the stubborn reply.

Still, you were certainly sure. You weren't exactly the man who knew women the best and who could always tell how they felt; but with Lizzie it was quite easy, since you knew each other since…well, forever, basically.

"Listen, I—", you interrupted yourself, since your girlfriend next to you began to mumble something, before turning over again. You eyed her for a moment, before you were sure she was just sound asleep, "Listen, Elizabeth, if you don't tell me what's wrong on instant, I'll come over. Right now. In my boxer shorts. Do you really want that?"

_I gotta whisper 'cause I can't be too loud_

"…"

"…?"

"…"

"…?"

"…!"

"…Ew. Alright, I'll tell you."

"Great! Now. Talk."

She hesitated only for another second, before inhaling fresh oxygen.

"…Well. My boyfri-…" she sighted, "I mean Francis and I went on a date today. And it was ace, really. Well at least in the beginning. Then I became total crap. That arse actually left me alone during dinner, because he received a call. He took out his mobile, talked to whoever-the-fuck. I had no clue who actually would call him. That late, I mean. He stood up and left me without a word, that blooming wanker!"

Ouch, that was harsh. But you told her often enough that he was an arsehole, right? She could have listened but _**no**_…!

"And you don't call him your boyfriend anymore because…?" Surely she wouldn't break up over something this small. Damn, this was Lizzie. Strange enough that this buggered her at all.

"Well, I thought nothing too bad. He often has to do something for his work right?"

You nodded, although she couldn't see. Then again, though, she didn't even want an answer, she just rambled on.

"I thought, 'Hey, Lizzie, why not visiting your little sister, now that she's in town for that week!' And that's what I did then."  
>To be exact, Lizzie and Maddie, her 'sister', weren't even related to each other. In fact, Lizzie kind of adopted Maddie at some point in kindergarten (not that adopted you think of now. She just claimed the Canadian as her sister. Both were best friends since forever now.) Still, you had a bad feeling about what would probably come next now. 'Please don't, please don't' you chanted inwardly, waiting for her to continue.<p>

_Well, my girl's in the next room_

"I never knew she was such a _wagon_!" Lizzie cried loudly into the phone.

'Wagon? Wow, if she's cursing in Irish, things must be really bad.' That very moment, you were sure what Madeleine did. And what Francis did. Still, you wanted to hear it before jumping to conclusions.

"So they…?"

"Yes. Yes they did."

You exhaled, before settling your mind, "Where are you right now?"

"At McLaren's." Ah, so it was the favourite pub of the both of you. "Why do you ask…?"

But you already hung up. Lizzie needed you. Now. You kissed your girlfriends forehead lightly, making sure to let her continue sleeping. You left a little note.

_Sometimes I wish she was you_

* * *

><p><strong>Good morning, sleepy head.<strong>

**I'm sorry that I won't be there to kiss you awake and surprise you with some breakfast, but I had a rather unpleasant call. It's urgent.**

**Don't be to mad, alright?**

**I love you :***

**PS: I'll make it up to you tonight ;D**

* * *

><p><em>I guess we never really moved on<em>

Rushing outside, nothing but the car key and some money in your trouser pockets (you wore very stylish battered tracksuit trousers and a grey wife beater, which both looked quite magnificent with those worn out plimsolls of yours. Except the shoes, it was your regular pyjama.)

_It's really good to hear your voice saying my name_

You weren't sure what exactly made you sense that Lizzie needed you right there. But somehow you just knew that talking over the phone wouldn't be it. You started the engine and, as soon as your car left the drive, you drove at full throttle.

_It sounds so sweet_

You tried to reason yourself, you tried desperately. There was no way you did that because you still loved your ex. No effing way! But then again, was there another reason you did that? For another friend, you definitely wouldn't drive with 120 km/h to a pub in the next town, risking to get caught by an officer, while wearing the ugliest clothes you had ever bought, with messy hair, dark circles around the eyes and that for nothing but some cheating? Something you could have soothed said person the next day just as well? You tried to stop thinking about that. No way. You loved Amelia much too dearly.

_Coming from the lips of an angel_

You couldn't really remember when you were this churned up the last time. On the one hand, you wanted desperately to turn around, drive home and shower Amelia with affection and love. And if it was only to feel yourself better afterwards. (It was making you feel guilty that you thought just minutes ago that you still might love your ex. And her best friend, mind you!)

On the other hand, you cursed your damn car for not being faster. You wanted to get to Lizzie as desperately.

_Hearing those words it makes me weak_

It wasn't exactly the first time, Lizzie whined about boys in front of you. But every time she said that she just broke up, your heart skipped a beat. That wasn't normal, was it?

_And I never wanna say goodbye_

Ever since Lizzie and you broke up, it had been like this; whining with each other about relationships, going drinking regulary, and even having intercourse the one or another time. Of course, as soon as your girlfriends knew that Lizzie and you had been together once, they wanted you to stop talking to her. Which you just couldn't. After all, Lizzie was one of the dearest persons to you. You dumped dozens of girls because of her.

_But girl you make it hard to be faithful_

Sometimes, you even cheated on your girlfriends with Lizzie. And she cheated on her boyfriends with you. But only if both of you needed a reason to stop dating your current love interest. On Amelia, though, you didn't plan cheating.

_With the lips of an angel_

You slammed on the brake immediately when you saw the well-known logo of your very favourite pub. You parked carelessly (you couldn't care less if you'd have to pay a fine…) You entered the pub (you jogged there and attracted many strange stares, but who cared?), "Lizzie!"

_It's funny that you're calling me tonight_

She waved you over, looking slightly surprised, "Lizzie!" You hugged her tightly, holding her as close as possible. She buried her head in the crook of your shoulders, sobbing lightly, "Y-you stupid p-prat! Y-you sh-shouldn't b-be here, a-at a-all."

"I know, I know, " you rubbed her back to console her a bit, "I'm sorry, Lizzie, I'm sorry."

_And yes I've dreamt of you too_

After a while, Lizzie calmed down, at least a bit.

"So.."

"So?"

"So, what are you planning right now?" came your plain question.

"I think I'll talk to that wanker. Let's see what he got to say about this. I'll most-likely break up with him finally, though."

You could only nod, "Be strong, Lizzie, be strong."

She grinned, "I'm always strong, stupid."

_And does he know you're talking to me?_

You never really got along with Francis. He was a rotten bastard, not knowing whether he wants to be an over-protective arsehole-boyfriend or a god-damned cheater-fucker. You meant what you said to Lizzie, though: He was the most manipulative arse ever been on earth.

_Will it start a fight?_

Amelia wasn't mad at all, when you came back later that day, looking like a hobo. She even greeted you with a kiss, with a meal, and with a sweet, "You look tired, darling. How about a massage?"

You, of course, accepted that offer gladly, sighting happily and thanking god for giving you Amelia. Still, you couldn't help but think about Lizzie. You hoped she would finally be able to speak up against that French idiot.

_No I don't think she has a clue_

"Darlin'?"

"Hm?"

"How about dinner tonight? Y'know, to celebrate our third-month-anniversary?" Amelia asked sweetly, acute blush on her face.

You were about to tell how good that idea was, and that you would love to, when your mobile buzzed. It was a short text message:

[Name],

I really need you know.

Could you please come over tonight?


	5. Waves: Insane England

_**Waves**_

Request: Insane!EnglandxReader

Written for: thefaiye

Warnings: Suicde. General madness.

It's R-12

* * *

><p><em>I live in a wave through thin dream<em>

Love.

It was one of those confusing words; one that made you wonder about basically everything and nothing. The worst was, though, that no one could really say what it was; a hobby? A present from god? Eternal suffering? Maybe the reason we are actually born?

As soon as persons fell in love with their certain someone (or with whoever they thought was their certain someone) they believed they would be able to tell you what love was and how it felt and what it meant. Who were they to shower you with facts that are only true for themselves? Did they have the actual right to do so?

_I, I can cry_

It wasn't as if you thought love was stupid. No, how could you actually think so? You just got comfortable with avoiding love at your best. You just didn't want to be one of those lovey-dovey girls who were so openly betrayed by their '_certain someone'_. Love was so cruel.

You just didn't want that. Not at all.

_You know the time, time's not kind_

But eventually, even you weren't as lucky as to get away without having a serious case of '_blind and utterly stupid'_ love sickness. You weren't sure whether it was this special kind of atmosphere surrounding him whenever your eyes met for a second, or whether it was that magnificent smirk on his lips. And maybe, just maybe, it was the very moment you locked eyes with him for the first time, that you forgot about how cruel love proved to be and how you didn't want it at all.

Thinking about it later, you would always compare it with being trapped in a spider's web.

_But I remember, the way we were_

You'd always been a little careful with yourself, especially your feelings; but you couldn't deny that you liked to get your adrenaline flowing once in a while. And somewhere deep inside you just felt that Arthur wouldn't just be exciting and possibly a challenge, but that he was probably the most interesting person you ever met so far.

He was intriguing.

_Slow, slow sad love_

He was, in fact, a very hard challenge.

At first, it was hard to get near him. He had this invisible wall surrounding him, blocking him from every human contact whatsoever. You became friends eventually. It was a lot afford to get there, indeed. And, he wasn't exactly as interesting as you wished he would be.

Well, that was what you thought, that is.

You were terribly mistaken.

_I wonder do you miss my love_

You noticed that you did feel very close to the British man, and that there was definitely attraction between the both of you…(maybe even some UST but that was a completely different story, after all.) But you figured that he was the Prince Charming for another girl. (He was just a bit too stiff and too cutesy at times. So affectionate, it was hardly to bare. He possibly got this trait because he once raised his little brother and because he was just raised to be the perfect gentleman.)

Soon enough, he told you how he loved you. Ever since you two met. Being the girl who was in love, but not in true, perfect love, you still said yes.

You couldn't live without being with Arthur after all, could you?

_I know you can't_

Nothing changed that much at all. Really, he was still the same as before, just not so red anymore, when touching you without intending to. Some smaller tokens of affection were exchanged too; other than that, you still acted like the good friends you were before he asked you out.

_(It's just a wave passing over me)_

There was just one thing about Arthur that just buggered you: His jealousy.

_It's just a wave passing over me_

You never knew he could actually be quite the bastard when jealous, but you noticed, after Francis Bonnefoy had flirted with you very openly in the very front of Arthur. Arthur didn't just yell at him and insulted him, he also punched him. Hard. Very, very hard.

_What are these waves?_

That wasn't all too shocking, truth to be told. Arthur tended to be a bit heated over some things. It were the breaking news the next morning that had shocked you.

'Young super model Francis Bonnefoy had been found dead in his apartment yesterday evening before the big fashion week in London started. The model had been booked for a walk that very evening, and when the assistants looked for him, they found his corpse instead. He was killed by three shots in the breast. There is no clue who the murderer could be yet.'

You choked.

Wasn't it ironical how Arthur and Francis had been fighting each other yesterday before Arthur stomped off and didn't come back until midday the next day?

_They're coming over me_

Things didn't get better after that shock. More names were in the news.

'Antonio Hernandez, found murdered in his house.'

'There is no clue where Alfred F. Jones could be at the very moment yet, but the police thinks that…'

'Ivan Braginski had been found dead in a club. Possibilities are high, that-'

You flinched. How did it come that the killed people were either your exes or guys who tried to hit on you at least once since you were together with Arthur?

You gulped.

_It must be my destiny_

Arthur himself acted, well, normal, to say the least. He seemed strangely happy these days, and it made you rather nervous. Every now and then you waited for him to pull out a gun, aim it at you and say, 'Now now, love. Why would you want to go out for a walk without me?' whenever you went for a small walk and asked him to give you some 'alone time'.

_Waves, goodbye_

You tried to forget about it. Desperately, if I might add.

There was just one problem (except for the never ending news flashes, announcing that the 'Player Killer' striked again…); you just couldn't get your mind of those killed boys. And it made you sick not to know whether this was Arthur's fault or maybe any other persons fault.

You decided to confront him.

_Goodbye, goodbye_

Surprisingly enough, he didn't even deny it for a tick.

You just asked him, and he said simply yes.

Why, you demanded.

"Because, love, you're mine. Eternally."

You didn't dare to disagree.

_It's just a wave passing, it's just a wave passing, it's just a wave passing, and it's just a wave passing over me, over me_

Some people say that love is the highest present you can receive in life. Some say love breaks people. Some say love means suffering.

Some say love means death.

In your case, all of them are right.

All you knew for sure was that you couldn't do it.

You just couldn't

_What are these waves?_

You loved him to much to tell the police. You loved him, even though he did so many things to you; did that make you stupid? Retarded? Love sick? All of them?

_They're coming over me_

If love was eternally, wouldn't that make it the strongest force on earth?

It does right?

But why does love lead to so much pain?

Why does it make people insane?

Why does it kill people?

Why does it make people suffer?

Why does it make people jump?

Why does it make people take the last step without hesitation?

How could it possibly make you take that last step with a smile?

_It must be my destiny_

Some say love is a miracle.

Some say it's science.

Others say it's destiny.

_Goodbye, goodbye (it must be my destiny)_

For all you knew, it was your judge.

For all you knew, it was what made you jump.

For you, it was what made you drown.

For you, it was what pulled you down.

For you, it was what took your breath, even in the very last seconds.

For you, it was what made you think of the most horrible and insane person you ever knew.

For you, it was the magic, that made you love the villain.

_Goodbye, goodbye (it must be my destiny)_


	6. Let Me Protect You: Romano

Let Me Protect You

Request: RomanoxReader

_Written for: _ Nuyy93

_**Warnings:**_ Cuss words and a few drops of blood_**.**_

_**It's R-12**_

* * *

><p>"Bye, [_Name_]," The Canadian smiled. "See you next week."<p>

Shooting your best death glare, you replied. "Matthew…If you call me [_Name_], then I'm going to call you _Madeleine._"

"O-oh," the personification of Canada mumbled, staring at the floor embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I tend to be so very forgetful, _Max._"

You grinned at your blonde friend, before waving a final good-bye, heading towards the big glass doors to escape that damn building. World Conferences were such boring waste of time, seeing how nobody ever managed to settle stuff – except for Ludwig, that is.

'_Well,' _you thought grimly. '_All of them are men so it's to be expected.'_

No, you did not exactly _hate _men. But as a young country – as a female one, that is – you soon realized that being a female is more of a disadvantage than anything else. Your big sister – the person who raised you – told you often how you would have to be an _'undercover female'_.

Long story short: Male countries can't really respect female ones; thus you decided that you wouldn't be female. Well, at least when meeting other countries. Except for one: Canada. She was your bigger sister after all. And the very reason you decided to disguise as a guy. She did that herself, calling herself 'Matthew' instead of 'Madeleine'. She had gotten that advice from her mother, the nowadays non-existing personification of all those proud Native Canadians before the Europeans came and suddenly outnumbered the Natives.

Both of you were keen to keep the secrets, as female nations weren't just handicapped but also molested by certain nations. Something the both of you did not approve of, obviously.

Now and then, though, both of you had a Freudian slip when it came to names. So, although you were really close to each other, you somewhere along the lines decided to call each other by your country names when others were around.

'_God, I sometimes hate my life,' _you thought annoyed, fastening your seat belt after you finally entered your car. '_I really wish I could just be myself for a freaking day!'_

Your mobile ringed.

"Hello?"

"Listen idiot, I was wondering – "

"Hi there, Lovi. Nicknames? How cute."

"S-shut the fuck up! Anyways, wanna hang out tomorrow?" He sounded awfully awkward.

"Sure thing. Around noon in the park?"

"Yeah, whatever. See you."

And he hung up.

'_Cute,'_ you chuckled to yourself.

* * *

><p>"…Pft, let's just part for now." Lovino mumbled as he had brought you home. Once again, no good-bye kiss, although you had been dating for ages.<p>

"Y-yeah, sure. See you." He was about to walk away already, as you managed to kiss his cheek lightly, before turning around casually as you walked towards your house, hearing Lovino muttering something under his breath before he too began to walk away.

You sighted as you entered your house.

One day, you might tell your boyfriend that you weren't a male – and that he could stop acting awkward around you.

'_Being "gay" surely isn't easy for him, huh?'_

You couldn't help feeling even more love towards the Italian upon that. He actually told you that he tried being bisexual – just for you. If he loved you that much, it must be real love.

And you felt guilty that you hadn't told him.

He would probably have figured on his own – and that's what you actually wanted to wait for when you two started dating – but you never got to have enough physical contact. He's just too awkward around another male – he never got to get experience on that matter, mind you…

* * *

><p>A contend sigh escaped your lips as you sat on your couch in your pyjamas. No annoying wig, no annoying socks in your pants and – most importantly – no annoying bandage trying to press your breasts into your lungs.<p>

'_Being a girl,'_ you thought with a warm grin. _'Really is way more comfortable than being a guy. At least that's my opinion...'_

You laid back, taking the remote and turning the TV on. Today would be a day to chillax and keep things slow. It was a seldom thing not to have to full-fill duties as a country, so you would just enjoy being a lazy ass today. That whole grocery run could wait for tomorrow.

'_Let's see…' _You thought, zapping through the TV programs. _'Oh, a crappy late night talk show….Well, that will do for once…'_

* * *

><p>Since one could never know when she would face a fellow country, you went through all the trouble of the wig, the socks and the bandages, finally throwing some men's clothes one.<p>

"Well, shit…" You just mumbled as the summer heat basically hit you with full force. Female legs would give you away immediately; thus you would have to wear long jeans. That and the wide and too large (and way too warm) shirt did not make things better, after all.

An annoyed sigh escaped your lips. You envied all those guys that could wear Bermuda shorts right now. You envied all those girls that could carelessly wear shorts, skirts and dresses even more.

_It. Was. Too. Fucking. Hot!_

"Anyways…" You just mumbled to yourself. There was no other way, seeing how you still were in Italy because of the World Meeting that week. Every country was. You had to expect that you will see the others. And they might realize Max is actually a [_Name_].

We wouldn't want that, do we?

You sat on a park bench, leaning back.

The sun was less cruel now although it was still unbelievingly hot for an evening. Then again, this was an Italian summer evening. Anyways, you were just glad you survived the day without passing out.

"Holy. Shit." You groaned, shopping bags in both of your hands as you tried to keep yourself from hyperventilating. "Shit. It's just too fucking hot!"

You closed your eyes as your body tried to accustom yourself to the heat. It didn't work. But that wasn't that shocking since you actually had tried the whole day – without much success. The cool air in the shopping mall saved you several times, though.

"Just going home and getting out of these damn clothes…" You mumbled, opening your eyes with a sigh. Your whole body felt tired and there was nothing you wanted to do more desperately than sleeping. Swept crept its' way from your head (that was terribly hot underneath your wig) down your temples, your throat and your entire body.

At home you would remove those horrid clothes and you would get rid of that bandages that threatened to kill you off. Then you would drink a glass of ice cold water. A cold shower would wash the sweat from your entire body as you –

Then there was a loud cry.

Another voice cried something similar to this, making you shot up in a hurry – and sit down again immediately as you could see nothing but a blur. The whole world around you moved and shook and danced. The heat finally got to you head.

'_Th-that's probably nothing serious anyways…_' you said as if to assure yourself as you sunk back. _'Shit, I'm done.'_

You stood up again, this time more slowly. And it worked; the blur wasn't that bad anymore.

"And now," You said to yourself. "Time to go home."

"**HELP!"** A female voice suddenly cried, sounding horrified. **"ANYONE, PLEASE HELP US!"**

You tensed, your eyes widened. It did not sound like 'nothing serious' anymore. You felt adrenaline rushing through your entire body as you ignored the blur and your shaky body and everything else. As fast as you could, you ran to where you thought the voice came from.

You finally reached the alley and you froze upon seeing what you saw:

Two rather pretty girls were pressed against an old house wall, whimpering and crying.

Caging them in, three men stood in front of them, laughing and commenting on how 'hot and sexy those bitches looked'. As one of them – the tallest one who stood in the middle – began to grab one of these girls – a nice and curvy blonde – you couldn't hold back any longer although you'd probably get yourself into trouble.

"H-hands off of them!" You panted; the run and the heat weakening you.

The guys turned around, looking at you in surprize. However, the surprize soon enough melted away and they looked definitely amused.

"Now, look at that! A tourist in our beautiful city, yet he thinks he can boss us around?"

That was the one on the left. He was tall, dark-haired and obviously accented enough to be Italian.

"That's just stupid. Who do you think you are?"

That was the one on the right. He was slightly taller than the other ones, had long black hair and a slightly stupid glim in his eyes.

'_He's probably the stupid side kick,'_ you thought, trying to think of something to do now. _'The one on the left doesn't look strong at all. The problem, I suppose, is the leader…'_

You just thanked your body for the adrenaline that kept you thinking straight. That heat was nearly killing you!

"Well. Seems like someone else will have to learn a lesson."

This time the apparent leader of the group spoke up, a malicious glint in his eyes.

"I don't want to cause any problems, just let these girls go!" You were surprized; your voice didn't even shake one bit, although you had suspected it would.

"Tsk. Now you try to tell us what to do? Just who do you think you are?" The one on the left sneered, failing at looking dangerous, though. It would have been, as a matter of fact, scarier if one of the other two men had said it. His very heavy accent made it actually sound quite funny.

"Yeah. These are just girls! Nothing but stupid whores, bitching around!"

The right one let out a deep laughter, seemingly finding himself very funny that moment.

You, though, tensed up. How dare they say that about girls? To say you were furious would have been an understatement.

"You two," you directed you words at the girls. "Run."

"But – "

"RUN!"

And with that, they kept running. Now, the three men seemed torn between chasing the girls and beating up you. They settled for the latter, though.

"Hey, you little bastardo, what was that, huh?"

Without thinking about what you did, you lunged forward; aiming for the one on the left since he looked like you could at least attempt to beat him. The others, though, looked a few numbers too strong for you.

With a loud **'Smack' **you hit his head, putting every bit of strength in it you had, the adrenaline making you more courageous than you should have been. You were sure you heard a loud cracking as he stumbled backwards, stumbling back before falling to the ground, unconscious. Now, you were quite surprised at yourself. Even a bit proud. But, you almost forgot, there were still two other guys, looking way stronger than the other one.

But it was too late. Between Fight or Flight, you chose to fight. And it didn't look like these two would let you change your opinion.

Your eyes went wide as you could see the others staring at you unhappy.

"Now, that might not have been the best thing to do." The leader said, as the big one already punched you, making you fly against the wall rather painful.

You winced.

"Stop that…" You mumbled, all adrenaline gone with that breath-taking punch.

"What did you say? I couldn't hear that..."

Of course he heard what you said and you knew it. Still, you began begging.

"Pl-please stop that!" You this time cried, loud enough to be heard from other people – hopefully. The punch was quite hard and you knew where that came from can follow more.

You shivered as you felt warm liquid running down your neck. Yes, a very hard punch indeed.

The big one laughed loudly, before his expression darkened and he kicked you straight in the face.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up!"

You trembled, trying to suppress the tears. You didn't want them to see you crying.

"I—"You stopped, coughing violently. Your eyes widened as you realized that you just coughed blood.

"STOP THIS." You cried as loud as possible, pain in your voice.

Again, they just laughed, "Who's going to stop us? You – "

You heard a low groan of pain and then another higher pitched sound of pain, two persons dropping to the floor. You slowly opened your eyes, surprized as you saw the guys on the floor, unconscious and with blood coming from the one's nose and with blood coming from the other's temples.

You lifted you gaze.

Then you stiffened.

"L-Lovino?"

"Seriously, what was this about?"

Since walking had been way too hard for you, the Southern part of Italy had to carry you to his residence in the city the meeting was held in. Luckily, it wasn't too far away. He just let you down on his sofa, leaving you for a moment before he came back with his First Aid kit.

You winced in pain as Italia Romano began to clean your wounds with sanitizer.

"I—"you began an attempt to explain why exactly you began that punch-up when it was so obvious that you would lose, but another jolt of pain interrupted you as your breathe hitched.

"Sorry, but seriously. That was just the dumbest thing ever done."

He seemed to be slightly sorry that he hurt you so much with the sanitizer, but he still continued. As you could feel tears streaming down your face, you felt ashamed. But then again, what were you supposed to do about the pain otherwise?

"Oh, you idot! Grow some balls already." He just said, rolling his eyes and continuing.

"Y-you're the one to talk…"You responded, voice still trembling. You were slightly angry, but way too weak to really express that.

"Pft, just shut up, you damn fucktard! It's not as if I asked you to ruin my evening, crying like a fucking baby when I'm trying to help you!"

Even though you did not like to admit it, you were slightly hurt by that. Romano had always been your boyfriend for quite the time, so you learnt how to put up with that, though.

"Remove your shirt." Romano suddenly said.

"E-excue me?" You yelled, jumping up in surprise; only to sit down again, wincing on obvious pain.

'_Not again.'_ You thought because the jumping and having to sit down again was way too familiar.

"You heard me. I must take care of your upper body, as you probably have wounds there too."

While he looked pissed yet embarrassed, you also thought you saw slight concern in his features.

It was time to make a decision. Now or never…

Without another word, you removed your shirt, baffling Romano. Before he could react, you also removed the blood-soaked bandages.

After that, you held your arms almost immediately protective in front of your chest, looking to the ground embarrassed, a few tears still streaming down your face.

"M-Max, you k-kinda have, uhm….." He lost his ability to speak, it seemed. That wasn't quite expected, as he was usually less awkward around girls than he was around boys.

"Y-you have, er…" Again, he stopped mid-sentence.

You curiously lifted your eyes again, looking at Lovino. He stared at you baffled, obviously lacking the words to express his words. He seemed to be caught between being dumb-folded and being shocked.

He tilted his head; before his eyes widened comically and sudden realisation dawned on him. His face grew dark red instantly, and he gasped.

'_He finally got it, huh?'_ you thought.

"Y-you're tranny!"

Beat.

Facepalm.

* * *

><p>"So you're name isn't actually <em>Max<em> but [_Name_]?" The Italian asked, still looking slightly shocked and confused.

"Yes, that's it." And it took you only one hour to make him understand. Lovino could be_ really_ slow if he wanted to.

"…..Wow."

"I know, right?"

"I… why?"

"Well, I figured that being a female nation would get the males to discriminate against me, so – "

"Seriously, you thought so? That might have been around hundred years ago, but nowadays they'd probably kiss your butt and do everything for you to charm you into their beds. It's a fact, believe me."

"Tch. Even if so. I want to be treated with equality!"

"You're one of _these _feminists, huh?"

"Obviously enough!"

"Well, I do believe women should be treated equally, too."

"Great, then why saying 'feminist' like a cuss word?"

"Not 'feminist' but 'these'."

"I—what?"

"Wanting equality but hiding your true gender? You're the one making being a female look like a pain. It's not us but you, you see? Telling yourself females are worth less and thus disguising yourself like this means you're the one thinking women cannot do anything!"

"But—"

"No buts, [_Name_]! You can use being female as an advantage. Did you never think of it that way?"

You were quite surprised about Lovino's point of view, but you couldn't help but think that he might be right.

And if he was right, you'd be wrong on the other hand, right?

Well.

You simply hated to be wrong.

"Lovi. Let's talk about that later."

"Tsk. You just don't want to admit that I'm right. That's just – "

He stopped and blushed as you leaned forward and kissed him to keep him silent. It was a short sweet and pretty innocent kiss because you're body still ached. (And it was the first mouth-to-mouth kiss you shared yet, mind you!)

"And, just to point it out, you don't need to rescue me next time. I could have handled it myself."

Now, that wasn't entirely true, but really, he did hurt your pride back then.

"[_Name_]," he chuckled, embracing you. "Just let me protect you, alright?"

"You're saying that because I'm a female." You pointed out, returning the embrace nevertheless.

"No. I'm saying that because you're a reckless little idiot."

"Why thank you." You replied sarcastically as you cuddled closer to him, closing your eyes.

"At least you're my little idiot."

You hummed in agreement before finally falling asleep.

It had been a hard day after all.


	7. Can't Fight the Moonlight: France

**Can't Fight The Moonlight**

FrancexReader

**Warnings**: Cussing.

**It's R-12**

* * *

><p><em>Underneath the starlight, starlight<em>

_We'll be lost in the rhythm so right_

_Feel it steal your heart tonight_

There were certain things you appreciated; for example the absence of Gilbert Beilschmidt.

The albino usually spent his days with either molesting you or molesting Elizaveta. The both of you obviously didn't like that at all. And the lack of his molesting definitely wasn't something sad. Not one bit. Because_, for God's sake_, that guy was a pain! A real one; like a tick, claiming a part of your body before it sucked every bid of blood it could, leaving you with Colorado tick fever.

Well, that's at least how Elizaveta put it; and she was his ex-girlfriend after all…

So…As one might guess you weren't _that _fond of the Prussian _at all_.

He sure looked nice and pretty good but his personality…was the exact opposite. Like it usually was; good looks, shitty personality. It was hard to find someone good-looking _and_ smart who had a good personality too.

But anyways, you had promised yourself to only fall for someone who wasn't a jerky player. As much as you believed –liked to believe – in the good in every person… Gilbert; well, at some point even a believer must stop believing in order to see the reality. Gilbert's an asshole and that's it.

To hell with Gilbert.

To hell with his friend Antonio, too!

And to hell with _him_ a fortiori!

That little sneaky French bastard that dared to go on a date with you before stealing your first kiss and then… He dared to actually leave you without any kind of explanation! You, of course, blocked every call from him. Ha, what would you care about any of his lies as to why he left you there? Two hours you had walked home. In the fucking _night_!

Damn him.

But now and then you couldn't help but wonder what his excuses would be. Sometimes you had been _so_ close to taking one of his calls. But Elizaveta was right: he wasn't any different from Gilbert and you had been a fool to actually doubt that.

One doesn't happen to be a part of the infamous Bad Touch Trio because he's such a nice and caring person. You couldn't believe that you had been so blind and trusting before. It was far beyond you why you still thought so much about it, though. Maybe you still hadn't time to get over the rejection? Well, whatever it was, you didn't like it.

"Man! Thinking about it won't help me at all; maybe I should just get over it?" You asked yourself, before shaking your head fiercely. No, you couldn't do that! You _needed_ a payback. Your pride was really offended and kicked with hairy French legs; you couldn't just forget that!

"You know; thinking won't help at all. Maybe working will?" Natalya said, looking slightly pissed.

"O-oh, sorry! It's my turn already?"

"Yes, Sherlock, how could you figure?" She replied, undoing her apron and handing it to you.

She was your very (not) lovely co-worker. You got along with her rather (not) good. The girl was about the same age as you but she definitely didn't behave like it. She seemed to think of herself as some kind of a more important person. Which she definitely was (not).

Anyways, you simply couldn't help but like her … not.

At all.

(Ahem) Anyways. She left without further words, leaving you to your shift. You exited the worker's room, entering the main room of the wee café you worked in.

"[_Name_]! Great, you're here. Mind helping me out a bit? I think the left tables will happily tell you what they want." Another co-worker, Lilly, yelled, nodding to the left side of the room.

You simply went over to the guests, offering your happiest smile.

"Welcome and what can I get you?"

"Well; I'd like a Strawberry Sundae…"

It went on like this for the next hours.

* * *

><p>"Good job, [_Name_]."<p>

"You too. See you this Tuesday?"

"Yeah." And Lilly with a tiny smile and a short wave.

"Uff. I'm just glad I can go home now." You let out a tired smile. Earning money wasn't all too easy, at all.

"I can only agree. Your work days are quite long, even for a part-time job."

You shrieked; now, that managed to scare you quite a lot.

"A-antonio? What are you doing here?" You asked. Of course you knew who this was. The Spanish with his cheery green eyes usually hung around Francis and Gilbert.

"I wanted to talk to you." He looked rather serious, making you gulp audibly. Antonio wasn't one for serious expressions after all.

"About?"

"Francis."

You didn't care about his expression anymore. You just turned around, facing away from the Spaniard. You did /not/ need Francis' little minions to talk to you.

"Go. Just do us the favour and go, Antonio." You replied cold-hearted.

"But, [_Name_]—"

"No 'buts', Antonio. I don't need you guys to go on my nerves. Not at all. Now, if you'd kindly fuck off."

"I can't, not until you listen to me –"

"You just don't understand, do you, An—"

"No**! You** don't understand!"

Now, the anger of the Spaniard made you shut up. He seemed really furious. And actually, that frightened you a bit.

"I have no clue what you mean, Antonio…" You mumbled.

"Of course you don't! You never take his calls and let him explain! Damn, [_Name_] Francis is getting depressed because of it, and you can't expect me to leave him in that kind of state! If you want to break up, go to him and do it fucking properly!"

Then he stomped off, leaving you baffled. Now, it was very rare to see the Spanish man like that and you knew it. Francis must be really dear to him, after all.

With a thoughtful expression, you went to a place that was well-known to you: Francis' home.

* * *

><p>You knocked, nervously playing with your hair while you waited for somebody to open.<p>

A woman with long blond her and beautiful baby blue eyes opened the door, looking at you friendly yet confused.

"Hello? May I help you?" She had a thick French drawl.

"Uhm…yes…?" You'd only been to his house once and that was before the two of you started that damned date. Of course, you didn't get the opportunity to meet his parents yet so you were a bit more shy than usual.

"I-is Francis at home?" You stuttered as you realized that she waited for you to continue.

"Oh, yes! He's spending his time in the garden," she answered, before tilting her head. "Who are you anyways?"

"[_Name_]…"

"Oh, hello, [_Name_]. You can't miss our garden. Just down the hallway and then the large glass door."

"Okay. Thank you." You said, as you stepped in. She closed the door behind you and seemingly wanted to say something else as you heard a loud cry.

"Oh, you must excuse me, but little Matthew needs my attention. He's still so young, merely one month old and needs every second of my time." She said apologetically.

You just nodded as she left you in the hallway. You soon enough followed her instructions, already spotting the glass door.

You reached the glass door and opened it, stepping outside. The air was a bit chilly but never the less warm enough to not make you uncomfortable.

On a bench in the part of the garden with the roses, you spotted a tall person sitting. Shiny blond hair gave him away.

"Francis…"

You saw how the other person jumped up in shock before facing you, eyes wide.

"[_N-name_]…?"

You stared at him seriously, "You better explain and the explanation better be good."

He nodded, also serious, sitting down again, "Take a seat?" He motioned to the seat next to him.

Hesitantly, you sat down, too, waiting for him to start.

"Well. I know I shouldn't have left you alone out of all sudden. And I'm really, really sorry."

"You should be!"

"I am, I assure! But it was urgent."

You looked at him puzzled, "Really? Because you told me how there was nothing more important than me for the whole evening before you left."

He sighted; "I'm sorry, okay? But I don't get a brother every day."

"You mean little Mello? Mason? Marin?" You tried, but none of these names sounded right. You couldn't remember the baby's name, no matter how hard you tried.

"His name's Matt, I believe." Francis said, also stumbling a bit about the name.

How awkward.

"You still could have taken me with you. Two hours is an awfully long time."

"Oui. But I just noticed afterwards. Sorry."

"…Alright. I'll forgive you."

"Oh, merci! Does that mean I get a second date?"

"I don't know, Francis. I'm not one of those easy girls, you know…."

"I wouldn't ever think so!" Francis said, pouting. "You don't have to trust in all these rumours, you know?"

You blushed. He did have a point there.

"I'm still not sure. You're a part of the Bad Touch Trio after all…"

"That's just a ridiculous name. Do you think we gave us the name ourselves? Most certainly not!"

You grew silent, eyes fixated on the ground. He did have some valid points but you still couldn't help it. On the one hand, you're heart threatened to explode every time you saw the Frenchman. On the other hand. Who would know what the future would bring the both of you?

"[_Name_], I think I know what's your problem…"

"Huh?"

"You're afraid of getting hurt, non?"

"What? No, I—"

"Don't deny it, name. We both now it's true. And I'll promise you something."

He stood up and you mimicked his actions, curious.

He took your hands and drew you closer, embracing you. In no time, your heart beat increased, threatening to burst out of your chest. You whole face held a lovely pink colour.

He locked eyes with you, the blue of his eyes as deep as the ocean. His eyes lidded, as he leaned closer, his mouth barely millimetres from his.

"As long as the stars shine above the two of us, I won't leave your side," He whispered, as if to make sure nobody but the two of you would share the promise, the secret. "Je t'aime. Je t'aime á la folie."

And then, his lips met yours as the world around you melted away in a pool of red, white and love…


	8. Flowers: Punk England

_**Flowers Mean Forgiveness**_

Request: Punk!EnglandxReader (romance, hurt/comfort)

_Written for: Umbrelink_

Warnings: Cuss words.

**It's R-12**

* * *

><p>„I can't believe this!" You yelled in frustration, throwing the bundle of flowers (red and white tulips) merciless on the ground. "How can he even dare to think that would make everything alright?"<p>

Once again, this particular evening, you felt your eyes water up. This time, though, it wasn't out of sadness, but more out of anger. How can he even try something like this? Flowers, out of all things? You stood above that way too cliché sorry of his. He could try to be all gentleman, if he just wanted to, but you wouldn't fall for that. After all these years, you realized, you never knew what kind of person Arthur Kirkland was. Now you do; and, well, after four years of loving him and putting up with everything he did, this was just too much. You had boundaries. And he should know. But seemingly he didn't. After four years.

You surely did have your weaknesses and such; and yes, Arthur did put up with them. But Arthur; he had so many of them. He didn't have them when you first got together.

* * *

><p>You still remembered how the both of you met four years ago. Accidently, the shy Brit had spilled all of his green tea on your clothing. Obviously, that quite hurt and he said so often sorry, it must have been a new world record. He insisted on paying for the damage he had caused, though you assured him more than once that everything was perfectly alright.<p>

You could still clearly see his emerald green eyes, shyly averting themselves as you met his gaze. You could still smell the faint minty smell of his hair, messy and untamed, with its' beautiful dirty blonde colour. His whole attitude, as he stood tall and proudly, yet was so lean and slender. You could still picture how he opened every door for you and would do anything to make you feel good.

Obviously, he had been quite different, and that was what made you agree to another meeting (or, as you would call it with a little grin, 'date') with the charming yet cute Englishman.

After a few months, you started dating. And my; you'd never been so happy before. He was considerate, always listened to you, and he treated you like a princess. To him, you were as precious as a china doll. That first year; it was heaven, to say the least. It was such a wonderful year that sometimes you wondered whether it had been a dream.

The second year was good, too. There were a few things about Arthur that were off and that you never noticed before. For example, he began to drink quite often, and sometimes a bit too much. But, you guessed, one gets to know some more or less bad things about the other, too. You weren't perfect yourself, so why demand that from Arthur? After all, he never harmed others when he was drunk. Actually, he was quite funny when drunk. Whining and slurring and stuff.

And you didn't even say a word about his new tattoo. The one that covered his left shoulder blade. It was an e-guitar. You supposed it was alright. After all, he played the guitar, he liked rock music lately and he did tell you that he wanted a tattoo. It wasn't even that large. Just very colourful. And the piercings in under lip and eyebrow weren't even that unattractive.

In the third year, things were… not so fine, at all.

Not just did he go drinking with his new friends more often, he also played in a band. That itself wasn't even bad; it was somewhat cool. And the music they made –punk—wasn't that bad either. It was just the fact that he came home late, smelling like perfume and alcohol and smoke. As you confronted him, he'd tell you that it was the air in the clubs. Now, you couldn't argue with that. But when you caught him smoking, you were furious. After all, he could have told you instead of lying. You never confronted him about the women's perfume, though. Something told you that you did not want to know. You also tried to trust him. As far as that was still possible. Without real evidence, you wouldn't tell him that you suspected that he cheated on you.

And now. The fourth year. It was plainly horrid.

He stopped being the little gentleman you fell in love with. Now, you could accept that, as people simply change over the years. And he stopped being shy. That was okay, too. Maybe that was even a bit of a progress. But he grew to be a total pervert, touching you in inappropriate ways at times that didn't even allow him to do so. He even ignored you when you denied him physical contact whatsoever. These sweet kisses of love were nothing more than fierce kisses of passion. (Now, that wasn't necessary a bad thing, but at times, it would have been nice to get the feeling to be properly loved and not just be used…) Worst of all, he spent almost all of his time with his band, getting drunk, smoking and – if your suspicion was right – doing drugs. You tried to talk to him, but you lacked the actual fierceness to make him listen.

However, he managed to make you fierce enou8gh to confront him, dump him and hate him; he came home – smelling like alcohol and smoke, his hair even more messy than usual, his lips swollen and red and his clothing (it grew really punk-ish over the years) thoroughly dishevelled. On the side of his throat, he had a crimson red love bite that nearly taunted you for trusting him.

Obviously, you broke up soon after, leaving him stunned. Now, how could his little innocent and - most of all – trusting flower leave him? You answered coolly with the truth; that he was a bastard and that, over the years, the both of you just drifted apart. You told him never to show up again and to leave you alone; there'd be no second chance and he better not hope for it. You didn't suspect he'd even try. But, alas, he did.

* * *

><p>He surprised you, a lot. You weren't sure whether this surprise was positive or negative. He tried his best to get you back. Showed up randomly in front of your door, leaving a bouquet of flowers. Left little sweet notices at your door or car. And, most important, he never called or faced you, so he even tried to give you the time you desperately needed. Though you were determined to forget about him, it grew harder. He realized his mistake, obviously. But could you simply forgive him? That was a completely different story, after all.<p>

You tried dating other guys, but… None of them resembled Arthur and he sadly was what you desired. It wasn't even gentleman Arthur, you had to realize. It was Arthur in general. You didn't care about his looks, attitude or friends. Just his behaviour towards you made you hate the Arthur he'd become after four years. And now, now he tried so hard. It might be, you thought quietly to yourself, that he deserves a second chance…

* * *

><p>It wasn't long after, when a short little notice surprised you. Instead of the usual lyrics, quotes or poems Arthur sent you, there was a simple date, a place and a 'Please, give me one last chance' on it. It was without a doubt Arthur, as it was clearly his writing.<p>

Should you go?

You weren't sure but…He did try and he was so awkwardly sweet doing so. But the place and the time made you shiver a bit. 11PM; it didn't sound like a good time to go out to meet a person. Especially if this person wanted you at the Laika – the infamous punk club in the neighbourhood. After you looked it up, though, you decided to give it a try. Arthur's band had a gig; seemingly that is why he invited you there.

* * *

><p>You tried your best to pick clothes that wouldn't make you stand out too bad. Your shirt was plainly black, your leather jacket too. You had a pair of trousers on, yet again black. Your shoes were pretty colourful, though, and your accessories matched with that. You left your hair untouched after the usual routine of combing it. Like that, you were pretty plainly dressed but you liked it. At least you looked decent enough for a club like that.<p>

Now, you also wanted a decent look because of Arthur. You didn't look like total crap but you weren't a sex bomb either. Nobody would recognise you too fast – not even Arthur. If he was still sober enough to know what you look like, that is.

You decided that tonight you won't let your guard down. What if this was only temporarily again? This sweet behaviour? Just to get you in bed, perhaps? No, you'd be careful. This just won't happen, ever.

Taking a seat close to the bar, you ordered a drink. You didn't feel quite like dancing, as the question what Arthur's plan exactly was just wouldn't let you go and you needed to think this through. Who knew how much time you still had? Probably not too much.

* * *

><p>It was about half an hour later, and in only four minutes it would be midnight. You decided that you'd leave by then if he didn't show up. Or did something. Whatever. You gave him that chance and you felt like a fool for doing so. With one big gulp, you emptied the water you had ordered after your drink (no need to get drunk, after all) and stood up. A quick look at your watch told you that there were still three and a half minutes left. Your gaze wandered around again, looking for messy blond hair, but not finding it. A sigh of resignation left your lips as you slowly pushed your way through the crowd to get to the exit. That was, when a very familiar voice cut through the air, silencing the whole room. You turned and indeed – at the microphone on the stage stood Arthur, his e-guitar firmly in his hands. The crowd cheered and clapped for him; seemingly, he'd been here before and just never told you.<p>

"Good evening, everyone," He announced through the microphone. "Today's song is for a very special person. It's for [_Name_]. I knew I messed it up bad. But I can change; for you. Please, just this one last chance, love?" He locked his eyes with you. They shone brightly – no signs for drugs or alcohol to be found. His hair was a mess – but he did try to tame it. His clothing did not match the club atmosphere at all – he wore a dark black suit. You noted that this was exactly the suit that he wore to your date almost four years ago, when you first met and he headed for some kind of meeting. You were taken back. Even his piercings were gone. Hadn't it been for the guitar, the micro and the local, you'd have thought that this was indeed the Arthur you fell in love with. "This song is obviously a bit modified by us. I still hope you like it…"

That's when they began to play and Arthur sang. And damn; did he sang good. You never heard him before seeing how you hadn't been on these gigs and concerts yet. But this was plainly amazing.

It wasn't the voice, though, that did it. It was the text; though the song was definitely punked up, it sounded quite romantically.

"_Flowers mean forgiveness, I heard a poet say, _

_When you need forgiveness, you give her a bouquet, _

_Flowers mean forgiveness, my darling, here I stand, _

_Asking your forgiveness, with flowers in my hand. _

_As sure as I was wrong when I made you cry, _

_I know that you'd be wrong if you say goodbye. _

_Take these lovely flowers, or they'll be lonely too. _

_Flowers mean forgiveness, forgive me, say you do."_

During the song, Arthur had put away his guitar, leaving the guy who usually played the rhythm guitar with Arthur's actual part. Only the micro remained in his hand as he slowly came towards you, a gentle smile on his face whenever the song had a short break. You noticed the flowers in his right hand and blushed. These were once again red and white tulips. He carefully gave it to you as the song ended, the micro carelessly thrown away but soon enough caught by one of the others. One single flower was left in his hand; he tucked it behind your ear as you still looked stunned at the tulip bouquet in your hands. It was a single white rose in full bloom, thornless. You quizzically looked at him, though you could feel the blush rising in your cheeks.

"[_Name_], I speak flower, you know," He remarked. You knew that much as he told you once how the Victorian language of flowers interested him. In your first year, he'd often sent you flowers and later explained what they mean. You forgot most of it, though, as he didn't do that the three years after that. "White tulips. They mean, 'Please forgive me'. At the same time, they mean 'Let's take a chance," He gently stroked your face with the tips of his fingers. "Red tulips. They mean 'Believe me', but they are also a declaration of love."

You opened your mouth, but closed it immediately. What could you say about this? He so suddenly was Arthur again; the one you fell for. Why?

As if you asked that loud, he carefully hugged you, making sure to give you the freedom of drawing back at every time. "Because when you left me I realized just how much I love you. I did some stupid things for sure, but I'll try my best never to smoke again, never to do anything legal again. Though about the drinking…Mh, no promises there." He lightly laughed, trying to loosen the mood a bit. He probably felt how you didn't feel too comfortable, yet. As you didn't laugh along, though, he stopped immediately.

"You cheated on me." You stated in anger. You couldn't care less about the people who were staring at the scene you both made.

"I—what?" He asked in disbelieve.

"Arthur, I know what a love bite is when I see it, I am not dumb!" You said, voice level raising. He flinched and fiercely shook his head.

"I would never do so, [_Name_]! The girl practically threw herself at me, trying to 'seduce' me, without success, by the way. She made me smell really bad, too. She was so drunk it wasn't even funny anymore."

You grew silent and stared at the ground in deep thought. So, that was it?

As you next met his eyes, you saw a loving little smile on his features.

"The rose," You suddenly said, almost randomly. "What does it mean?"

"It's thornless. That means, love at first sight. It's a single one in full bloom – meaning, I love you still. And the white colour means Eternal Love. Listen. I know things have been difficult for us lately; but," He knelt down in front of you and took your right hand – the hand that wasn't holding the bouquet – and placed a small kiss on your knuckles. "Will you please forgive me, as I know plead you for your forgiveness?"

With a crimson blush on your face, you nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes I will."

Arthur suddenly grinned that trademark grin he only gave to you. He embraced ha, placing small kisses all over your face; on your eyebrows, on your chin, on the tip of your nose. And last – but not least – he placed a kiss on your mouth. It was first a small, innocent kiss. It grew more heated, though, and you enjoyed every second of it. It had been long – so, so long; too long – since he kissed you like that. It felt great and you felt ecstatic.

Only when you parted and hear the crowd cheer, you remembered that you weren't in private. With an uncomfortable cough, you parted. "Arthur. If you're ever planning on seriously asking me a – probably _the—_ will-question again, then don't do it in public."

"I won't." He laughed, a mix of joy and relief before a cheeky grin came to his face. "Let's head out for a walk?"

You simply nodded. As he opened the door for you and hold it open, you were certainly sure that – no matter what he and his friends were interested in – he'd remain your gentleman. Even if, in this case, he was more of a Punk gentleman.


	9. Fireworks: Hong Kong

_**Fireworks**_

_Request: Hong KongxReader_

_Written for: DayDreamingAngel2_

Warnings: -

It's R-6

* * *

><p>A small smile came to your face as you watched the Asian country drawing some doodles. You knew that, yes, these probably were some of his very <em>'mature'<em> drawings; the ones Yao would often criticize. You even stopped counting how many times Yao had asked him to stop drawing things like that, but it never stopped Leon. He just enjoyed it; and just because he technically was a part of the People's Republic of China didn't mean he'd stop doing what was fun to him. It probably was quite the questionable fun, but at least he smiled while doing it. And you really loved his smile as it could barely be seen.

Noticing your eyes on him, he lifted his eyes from the paper to meet your gaze. He raised one bushy eyebrow (you suppressed a little giggle – they were kind of cute. You couldn't quite see why Leon hated them so much. Probably because England, out of all people, cursed him with these. They still fitted him, somehow.) with a skeptical look. One he often used; he was quite the serious and quit person. Except that he sometimes tried to act a bit cuter for you. He was so absolutely cute when trying to do that. You usually could barely conceal a squeal.

"…[_Name_]?" By the slightly annoyed yet confused and concerned look on his face, you supposed that you missed some kind of question he asked.

"Yeah…?" You asked, sheepishly smiling.

"I asked what's up. If you dislike my…art, I'll stop drawing near you." He offered. "That's not it." You assured. In fact, you liked watching him during the process of drawing. Plus, why would you get jealous while watching your boyfriend draw half-naked girls? After all, that was paper. And, surprisingly, a lot of pictures resembled you. A lot.

You grinned a little. He usually never openly told you but seemingly, you were on his mind quite frequently. Now, isn't that rather flattering than anything ekse? No, you did not mind at all.

"What's wrong, then? Do I have something on my face?"

"Nope. I just like seeing you smile." You said with an enthusiastic grin. He blushed deeply, turning away with a childish pout.

"Yeah, right. Go and do something. Or do you want to sit around all day?" He said, demonstratively staring at his drawing again.

"Alright," You chuckled, kissing his cheek. "See you this evening?"

God knows why; but Leon totally forgot one very important day: your birthday. But you were used to have the parties a bit smaller. And it wasn't that abnormal that only family members and close friends wished you good luck for the next year; but you still wanted that evening with him.

"Sure. At the park? I have a little surprise for you." Your heart jumped a little. Maybe he remembered your birthday after all? But you wouldn't get your hopes too high. This was Leon. And there was no real way you could see what was up in his mind.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Your day was rather unproductive though. After Leon was ever so keen to get you out of his house, you were at home, no idea what to do. You ended up answering some calls and mails that came due to your birthday. Around noon, Leon sent a short message, telling you the exact place and time to meet. Judging by the time it would be rather cold outside so you went to your wardrobe and picked out some clothes that would fit the weather of the evening. Then you busied yourself with the TV. And that was about it. Nothing more happened at all.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Nervously you played with the grass surrounding you. You already were at the place Leon mentioned in his message, and it was almost time. Somewhere deep inside you hoped that he remembered your birthday. He really wasn't a person to love birthdays and he didn't even celebrate his own, but a little "Happy Birthday" would make you very, very happy.

You stared at the deep blue sky, stars glittering and glistening lovingly. You couldn't help but admire the wide and never-ending sight before you. Today, the sky seemed even more magnificent than ever before. It all seemed to be perfect as a shooting star appeared.

'Make this evening just perfect…' You chanted in your mind, a soft smile on your face. It would all be perfect if he just remembered.

The night seemed so absolutely quiet and peaceful. Until a loud noise destroyed the silent. Beautiful colours enlightened the sky, drawing beautiful pictures, making you gasp in awe. Wait a sec… was that your…name? As a firework?

"[_Name_]," You read loudly, as the sky light up again. "Happy birthday."

Then, in as a red firework, "I love you."

You immediately knew who did that. Leon had always loved fireworks. You giggled a bit as he embraced you from behind, You leant back a bit, before finally turning around. You observed him for a moment. Tonight, his red duangua was missing; instead he wore a normal button-down and dark jeans. Of course, being him, he still was fashionable. (Though he'd never admit his interest in fashion. Ever.) You put your hand on his cheek, brushing his choppy dark brown hair out of his face. You closed the gap between the both of you, kissing him short and sweet.

"Thank you."

He only blushed in return, making you squeal in delight. "You're so cute."

"I…Just shut up…" He mumbled, kissing you again.


	10. If I Die Young: Prussia

_**If I Die Young**_

_Request: PrussiaxReader (If I die young as song, Flashback to a MAD)_

_Written for: Kayla96_

Warnings: -

**It's R-12 **

* * *

><p>People die; that's how the world works. Every day you can see it as soon as you read the headlines of the newspaper, or see the news on TV. Of course you feel bad, as soon as you see it. But, deep inside, aren't you glad it's not you? Can you really imagine how it would be if it was you're baby sister who was found abandoned and dead? Can you really say that it faces you so much that you want to change how the world goes? No, you can't. Because, no matter how horrible it is, you still cannot help but think, deep, deep down, that you're glad it's not your problem. And though it seems oh so cruel to be actually cold about it, it's how humans protect themselves from too much emotional pain. You shed tears for things you see in movies. But yet; could you ever imagining it really happen?<p>

Of course not.

I couldn't do so, either.

Just now, now that it concerns the person who was closest to me; just now I can feel it. The depression, the sadness, the anger. All of it.

And, worst of all, I can't even cry.

Because she asked me not to; she knew it, I'm sure. I was just too blind to see it.

And that's why, today, I'm facing the worst that could happen. She's dead. And nobody can ever change that.

Even I, who always thought I'd be able to move mountains, can't do anything.

It's just now that I realize what a pathetic being I am.

After all, I am not more than a weak, pathetic fool.

After all, I am only Gilbert Beilschmidt.

And, after all, I am helpless.

.

**.**

**.**

_If I die young, bury me in satin_

_Lay me down on a bed of roses _

_Sink me in the river at dawn _

_Send me away with the word love song_

_._

_._

_._

Such a beautiful spring day it was.

The mild wind made the warm day just perfect, the green grass was so soft, you immediately fell asleep. It was rare to have such wonderful days, and you almost regretted sleeping through it instead of enjoying it. On the other hand, sleeping probably wasn't the best word; more like, drowsing off. You could still here the buzzing bee and you could hear the approaching steps, but you were too lazy to open your eyes. Why? The day was just beautiful. And nobody would try to harm you in a park. Filled with people. There was no reason for worry and you were overall happy, so why even bother?

The steps came to a stop and whoever that was stood in front of the warm spring sun. You were about to complain as you felt a hand on your cheek. You startled but relaxed almost immediately. This scarred hand – you'd recognize it anywhere. Gilbert, Gilly, Gilbo – there was just that one person with a scar this big on his palm. And that the hand was so small just reassured you – after all, the two of you were only thirteen and still growing.

"What is he doing?" You thought confused, but you did not move. After all, he'd force you to play with him; and since he only wanted to play swordfight with his ridiculous wooden swords, you would make him think you slept. Easy as that; you just didn't feel like moving today.

You were surprised, though, that he didn't even try to wake you. He removed his hand, wordlessly, and did something he never did before: he gently began to play with your hair.

"What the –" You thought, deciding to wake up now; Gilbert was beginning to scare you, if only slightly.

You opened your eyes as if you only awoke from sleep now; Gilbert noticed and his face grew crimson within one second. He suddenly stood and, once again without saying a word, ran off.

You blinked once and then twice, not getting what was up with him. As you stood up, something fell out of your hair. You knelt to pick it up and stared in confusion.

A flower?

.

_._

_._

_Lord make me a rainbow,_

_I'll shine down on my mother_

_She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colours_

_Oh, and life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no_

_Ain't even grey, but she buries her baby_

_._

_._

_._

Emotionlessly you stared at the doctor, who wore the most pitying smile he could muster. The look of sympathy he sent you made it all worse, but why should he be able to tell? You looked so calm and collected, so un-faced. It was your mother who looked shell-shocked, who cried.

"Why?" She chanted between the sobs, uncontrollably shaking. You wanted to comfort her, but you couldn't. You felt cold, numb, _dead_.

The doctor probably was used to deliver bad tidings, yet he seemed to be sad about it too; obviously not too sad, but at least he seemed somewhat gloomy.

Glum thoughts, though, didn't even occur to you. Sure you were young and this was harsh but… Just now, you couldn't even cry for yourself. You felt as if it already happened; as if you didn't have time left.

But you still had time, right? You could still do something. You didn't have time for sadness; you had to be strong – for your mother.

"How much time have I left?"

"Three months, if you are lucky."

_._

_._

_._

_The sharp knife of a short life_

_Well, I've had just enough time_

_._

_._

_._

With sixteen, life is only starting; at least that's what they said. For you, this would be the end.

Three months – if you are lucky.

What could one do in three months? Usually, you'd let the time pass mindlessly; but now it was different. You had only three months. And you didn't want to waste them.

You stopped doing homework – no time to waste with that. You stopped arguing with your family all the time – you wouldn't want to leave on bad terms. Even the girls at school you disliked got too see a nice side of you. Yet you tried to stay the same as far as possible. You didn't want your friends to know. You didn't want them sad. You didn't want to have them cry after you. You didn't even cry for yourself, so why should others?

.

_._

_._

_If I die young, bury me in satin_

_Lay me down on a bed of roses_

_Sink me in the river at dawn_

_Send me away with the words of a love song_

_._

_._

_._

You sighted as you finally lay down in your bed. The whole day, you'd been reading books – books others gave to you over the years that you never read because you thought they were boring. Some were interesting, others not. But it felt great to get them all done. It felt great to know that you finally did something you had been trying to do for years.

Usually, you'd be lazy on the weekend. But you had so many things to do.

Sunday, you'd write letters. To everyone. Family, friends, foes. Everyone. Just to tell them that you valued them all, even if you sometimes didn't show it all too good. And you had to say sorry to your friends. For not telling them.

You did feel bad about that. But you didn't want them to be depressed because of you.

That would make you feel even more guilt…

_._

_._

_._

_The sharp knife of a short life_

_Well, I've had just enough time_

_._

_._

_._

In your entire life you did things you were proud of and things you were not so proud of.

Most important, though, was that you didn't want to regret what you did. You wanted to be a good memory for others. And that's why you decided to volunteer wherever people needed help. In the afternoons, you helped out at the local kindergarten and you decided to sacrifice every second evening to volunteer at the retirement home. Three months were enough; you'd use them wisely. And the weekends you'd enjoy with your friends.

Show one last time what was important for you.

You'd say thank you more frequently.

And – most important – you'd finally tell Gilbert what was on you mind since age fourteen. It might have been a childish crush. But you still are a child and you'll die as one, so it's all you had.

.

.

.

_And I'll be wearing white when I come into your kingdom_

_I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger_

_I've never known the loving of a man_

_But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand_

_._

_._

_._

Surprisingly, he reacted positive to your words. Held your hands, gave you a chaste kiss and hugged you close.

"I am so happy," He exclaimed, touched. "I love you too. And I'll never leave you. I promise."

You suddenly remembered that warm spring day, when he put these flowers so gently in your hair. It was only now that he was so gentle and chaste again.

"Gilbert…" You mumbled, slight guilt creeping into your thoughts. You brushed it away, though. There was nothing to change. You only could regret one single thing; that you never told him before. You wasted so much time – too much time. Precious time. And now, every second ticking by reminded you that the time you lost would never come back again. "How can you promise this?"

"I love you, that's why. I'll stay with you, forever."

And he sounded so sure, that your heart broke, you could almost hear the faint cracking.

"…W-why are you crying?"

"It's just," You sobbed. "That I am so happy right now, I could d – no, not die. But I am so happy I could just cry my heart out right now."

You didn't know whether this was a lie or not. Your head was just terribly empty.

.

.

_._

_There's a boy here in town, says he'll love me forever_

_Who would have thought forever could be severed by_

_The sharp knife of a short life_

_Well, I've had just enough time_

_._

_._

_._

Every time he touched you, your skin tingled, put every time you also felt a pang of regret and a sting of conscience. You felt mean; staying silent about your own fate. But you didn't want to bother him with things that only should bother you. Death itself was hard enough. So why should he have to carry that burden before it even happened?

Exactly; there was no point in that. And just because you couldn't fully enjoy the time between the both of you, didn't mean he shouldn't be able to.

You'd silently savour the moments, so they could be buried with you. So you could die happy. As happy as death could be, anyways.

.

.

_._

_So put on your best, boys, and I'll wear my pearls_

_What I never did is done_

_._

_._

.

If your friends were to describe the change of the last months, they'd probably say that you have been more adventurous. You used every opportunity life gave you and you encouraged your friends to do more things they'd never do otherwise.

Did the knowledge of your soon death actually make you happier?

Most certainly not. But you saw chances you never saw before. Ideas you had would now also be turned into reality as long as that was possible. Simply because; what could you possibly loose?

.

.

.

_A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar_

_They're worth so much more after I'm a goner_

_And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singing_

_Funny, when you're dead how people start listening_

_._

_._

_._

Was it cruel to write letters in order to say goodbye? The thing is, if a person dear to you died, you'd like to have something that reminded you of them.

You also wanted to show them how you felt about them. Who promised you that you wouldn't have a breakdown after all once you had to talk about it?

That being said; you had all of them done. Three of them held more than thousand words each, the rest barely held about one hundred. But these eleven ones, you knew, were for person that would deserve so many words more.

One for your mother, one for your father and one for your best friend. Basically, the people dearest to you. Just one was missing.

You sat in front of the paper, not knowing what to say. You knew what you wanted to say, yes. But how should you put it? He knew that you loved him more than everything else. He would be sad, no matter what you wrote to comfort him. So what could you say? You didn't want to write something that would make him feel guilty about his promised forever.

A single tear escaped your mask of strength. And then another. And then some more. You cried. Three months were over, you had been lucky. Yet, time's running but the person you loved most would have to go without proper goodbye.

Because, even though it was selfish, it hurt too much to write it down. You couldn't. Even though he deserved it the most.

It was just plainly impossible.

"Damn," You whispered shakily, sobbing. "Think of something, you little idiot."

.

.

_._

_If I die young, bury me in satin_

_Lay me down on a bed of roses_

_Sink me in the river at dawn_

_Send me away with the words of a love song_

_._

_._

_._

They say you see your whole life as a film when you die.

That's a lie. You couldn't see anything. It came fast and luckily painless.

And then, everything was just black. Just like that, a human life was wiped out, the only traces left were the official papers and the tears shed by the humans who had been close to you.

It's amazing to know that people will always vanish and die and yet it's only important for you when you know that person. Does it face you that every other second somewhere a person dies? Or does it face you more that every ten years a person close to you dies?

The funny thing is the dead person isn't faced at all.

After all, there are far worse things than dead.

.

_._

_._

_The ballad of a dove_

_Go with peace and love _

_Gather up your tears; keep 'em in your pocket_

_Save them for a time when you're really gonna need them, oh_

_._

_._

_._

Never, Gilbert would have thought he'd break a promise. And never had he thought he'd cry so openly in front of others.

But as he stood there in front of your coffin, he didn't feel like himself anymore at all.

You went, and with you there also went a piece of his heart, his soul.

And he felt lonely. Not just had you been his first and only love but also his only true friend. The person he opened up to.

One last time, his hand gently touched your hair, what was left from his heart filled with regrets and guilt.

He couldn't believe he actually broke his promise.

.

.

.

_The sharp knife of a short life_

_Well, I've had just enough time_

_So put on your best, boys_

_And I'll wear my pearls_

_._

_._

_._

I still cannot believe it.

Can't believe she's gone.

Can't believe I didn't notice how strong she had changed.

Can't believe I broke my promise.

So that's why she cried as I promised that. She knew I wouldn't be able to keep it.

Does it make me a liar or her?

Maybe the both of us?

All I know is, that I will keep her parting present forever.

Others got letters; and they were surprised I didn't. But what she gave me tells me so much more. Tells me of her love, of how important I was to her.

It's a flower. _The_ flower.

Our flower.


	11. It Will Rain: England

**Author's Note:**

Alright, guys.

I do not wish to have fanfiction net mad at me. Really, I do not wish for that the least.

My problem is just that one person told me You-FFs are not allowed, another says they actually are allowed.

I have read the rules and guidelines and I know that You-FFs basically aren't allowed as a 'you choose' adventure. Now I'm a bit confused, because I thought the rule was supposed to mean FFs with endings like 'Now go to chapter two, if…. Or go to chapter three if you rather… ' I always thought I was allowed to write in second PoV because that's up to my freedom as artist and writer. If it wasn't up to me, I'm sorry. I'm not sure whether this is allowed to stay here on or whether I have to delete this. If I have to delete this, but you still wish to read the other requests I'll do, please visit my deviantart profile, littlecookiefane.

Thank you.

Now onto the fanfiction itself, non?

* * *

><p><strong>It Will Rain<strong>

Request: EnglandxReader

Written for: Sebastian's Servant Felicia

**Warnings:** England's head over heels for the reader. And he's a tiny bit depressed. You've been warned.

**It's R-12**

* * *

><p><em>If you ever leave me baby,<em>

_Leave some morphine at my door_

'_Cause it would take a whole lot of medication_

_To realize what we used to have,_

_We don't have it anymore._

Arthur had loved you ever since kindergarten; but he only told you that he loved you approximately two years ago. You only realized that you also loved him back roughly one and a half year ago, after your first kiss that he gave you when the two of you took part in your school's play, a modern interpretation of _Romeo&Juliet_. Obviously enough, you had been Julia and he had been Romeo; you still remember perfectly well how nervous and anxious you had been during the whole play. Only half a year before said play, you basically dumped your best friend and friend zoned him. The two of you hadn't been able to overcome the 'incident' before and that he was Romeo – One can only imagine the awkwardness. But, against your exceptions, it went very well, and the kiss was just _wonderful_. It was basically love on the first kiss. You had been together since that faithful day.

_There's no religion that could save me_

_No matter how long my knees are on the floor_

_So keep in mind all the sacrifices I'm makin'_

_Will keep you by my side_

_Will keep you from walkin' out the door._

Still Arthur had problems with letting himself completely falling in love with you. There were certain things he didn't felt ready for yet, i.e. French kissing, going out and kissing each other in public or even stating loudly and in front of others that he loved you. You knew it was your fault since you dumped him the first time he opened himself to you and told you how he loved you; nowadays, he was always anxious because he thought you would dump him again any second. But the one thing he couldn't see was that you, in fact, couldn't live without him. Sure, it took you a whole lot to realize, but now you knew for sure.

_Cause there'll be no sunlight_

_If I lose you, baby_

_There'll be no clear skies_

_If I lose you, baby_

_Just like the clouds_

_My eyes will do the same, if you walk away_

_Everyday it will rain, rain, rain..._

Arthur already had trust issues before you dumped him; now that you were together, he still had certain problems with trusting you. He would always compare you with his former best friend Alfred (which you found unfair since to you, it was a difference whether you were friends with someone or whether you loved someone.) and you knew for sure, that Arthur had cried hard after you rejected him (Alfred told you so, because he thought you would find this _funny._) You could only imagine how bad he must felt after it, because, well, he cried. And Arthur dented to be an ice block before. He wasn't one to easily cry. But being left by a person you deeply care for? You could see how much it must have hurt.

_Don't just say, goodbye_

_Don't just say, goodbye_

_I'll pick up these broken pieces 'til I'm bleeding_

_If that'll make it right_

You were still determined to gain his trust back, and if it would take you another decade of knowing him! You were just as head over heels for him as he was for you. And as long as you loved each other, you wouldn't give up. This was about Arthur. Not just any nameless idiot. For Arthur, you would do anything. If that meant gaining his trust back slowly, and repairing what you destroyed, you would do it. You would pick every piece of his broken heart up and glue it together again. These broken pieces of his heart shall make you bleed and cry because they will make you realize where you went wrong and what you did to him. Still, you would pick them all up with a smile; Arthur was worse it.

_Cause there'll be no sunlight_

_If I lose you, baby_

_There'll be no clear skies_

_If I lose you, baby_

_Just like the clouds_

_My eyes will do the same if you walk away_

_Everyday it will rain, rain, rain..._

There was nothing you wouldn't do for him; you would make sure make him trust you again, as much as he already loved you. You would one day move together with the moody Briton. You would one day marry him, you were sure of that. And, one day, you would have children with said Brit. You would always support him. Always. Because you just loved him. More than you loved yourself. It may be that it took you long to realize; maybe even a bit too long, indeed. The love you shared with him was difficult. But then again; when had love been ever easy?


	12. Gives You Hell: Netherlands

_**Gives You Hell**_

_Request: TheNetherlandsxReader; Past!SpainxReader_

_Written for: SimplyPrussiaous_

_Warnings:._

_It's R-12_

* * *

><p><em>I wake up every evening<em>

A little yawn escaped your mouth when you got up groggily. Glancing at your clock, you decided that you would have to get up, though. It was around 7 PM anyways.

You slowly sat up, stretching your arms and legs a bit before exiting the bed, making your way towards the window. Outside you could see that the sun was still shining rather brightly. Then again it was spring, and days were quite long now, so it's no real surprise at all.

_With a big smile on my face_

You couldn't help but grin a little.

A year ago, nobody would have thought that you would live in a huge apartment in Amsterdam. With enough money to buy a very, _very _expensive car. (Every month, if you wanted to.) With a work you loved so dearly – you had been able to reach your life goal: becoming a famous designer. And not just did you have money, an apartment and a nice car; the most important thing, to you at least, was your boyfriend. Fiancé. Soon-to-be husband.

_And it never feels out of place_

A year ago, that would have been a dream. A year ago, your ex dumped you. Of course, he took the house, the car and gave _your _engagement ring to his new fiancée. Heart-broken, you had no idea what to do. The fact that you didn't have work couldn't really make it better. Without a home, a job or a car, what did you have at all?

Your love? Yeah, right. _That _obviously wouldn't vanish like he did. Screw life.

Of course you also had noticed the change in Antonio's and your relationship before. _Of course _you perceived how he began to take time off in lieu. That he had a fun time with his little lover… Well, you did not notice that. At all.

_And you're still probably working_

And only god knows what you would have done if it hadn't been for Tim. The Dutchman turned out to be the only straight line in your changing life. However, he made you, for the first time, feel worthwhile. For the first time _ever _somebody wanted to know something about your designs. Hell, he was the one who gave you the courage to take the huge last step and make your lifeblood your job. And it was a _huge_ success.

_At a nine-to-five pace_

And Tim didn't just make you feel better about yourself. He didn't just give you a place to stay. He didn't just give you the trust and help you needed. He also turned out to be _that person_. The one person every girl hopes to find one day.

_I wonder how bad that tastes_

And true, he might be a little cold. But you surely managed to warm him; a little more each day. This relationship just seemed _right. _

_When you see my face_

You shook your head, turning your back towards the window, '_Enough of these thoughts. I have to attend a gala tonight!'_

_Hope it gives you hell_

After the usual showering, hair combing and teeth brushing, the tricky part began; what to wear?

You stared at the wardrobe for a few seconds before you decided that you would _not_ take any longer than five or six minutes for your dress up. It didn't matter after all. Your stylists would make something completely different with your hair and make-up anyway, and nobody would be able to complain about your dress then – Heck, your stylists could make a hessian sack sexy. And since you were a designer yourself, nobody would even _dare_ to criticise your outfit.

_Hope it gives you hell_

You settled for a semi-long dress in your favourite colour and some fitting shoes. You didn't even care to put on make-up (your stylists, Gwen and Joe, would be mad at you for making them work extra because they would have to remove your self-made make-up first) and why doing anything with your hair? Gwen would decide to re-do it again, anyway.

_When you walk my way_

And, even if you would look dishevelled nobody would care at all. It would be a _'new, courageous idea of a young, modern designer'_ and the people would probably consider that it was a part of your new collection that was soon to come.

_Hope it gives you hell_

Shooting your mirror reflexion one last happy grin, you waved yourself good-bye before finally getting your handbag and your mobile, exiting your apartment, whistling that song of the All-American Rejects. You couldn't remember the lyrics, however you loved the rhythm.

_Hope it gives you hell_

All in all, your outfit was decent enough to satisfy you and, hopefully, your stylists. Actually, you still thought that stylists were unnecessary. Then again, yours were pretty damn good. And you really liked them. You considered them to be close friends.

_Now where's your picket fence, love?_

"Would you look at _that_, please? Princess, you are actually letting us enjoy your company? How _generous._"

You simply decided to ignore Gwen's heavy sarcasm and answered with a big smirk, "I know, right?"

Gwen's face grew red with anger – she really wasn't a patient one to begin with, and you _did _take some time – and her left eyebrow began to twitch. That was one of her many quirks. Usually, it tended to be quite funny, but today she also seemed anxious. Then again, her former caretaker would be there – and she really thought of him as a father figure, even after she passed her finals in that university he taught at. (You didn't even know there were schools that taught how to be a stylist. Then again, there's something for everything nowadays…)

_And where's that shiny car?_

It wasn't exactly that you were afraid now that you sat in the car that already drove off. But it wasn't the truth to say that you weren't at least a bit anxious about everything. After all, the whole world would watch you. One wrong step and you could trip and fall. And that really would be quite embarrassing. To say the least.

_And did it ever get you far?_

"Keep calm and carry on, [_Name_]. There are people out there that would love to take your place tonight. No matter what you do, you'll enjoy this evening. And don't let Gwen's nervousness infect you. We all know how she can be at times."

Gwen just grunted annoyed.

"I'm not anxious, just to let you know!" She said with a frown.

"Yeah, me neither!"

"Jeez, the two of you sure are a handful!"

A soft giggle escaped your lips – you couldn't argue with that.

_And you never seemed so tense, love_

"Gwen. You're awesome and your former caretaker will love what you do," Joe said as if it was the most obvious thing on the entire planet. "[_Name_], you're awesome, too. And you have Tim. I'm sure he'd throw himself in front of any kind of danger. What could possibly happen?"

Your mood brightened almost immediately. He was right. How could you forget that Tim would be there?

_I've never seen you fall so hard_

There had always been several things that made you uneasy. But never once had Tim not helped you to get over it fast.

He was a blessing; an angel sent from heaven, at least to you.

_Do you know where you are?_

As the seconds ticked by, you got somewhat tense again, though. The very moment Tim would be next to you – everything would be perfectly fine then, you knew that, so you tried _not_ to think about it too much.

As the car stopped, you could hear loud voices from the outside and you knew that these were the cameras. Momentarily, you panicked and felt like collapsing right on spot, but somebody opened the door for you and extended a hand that you grabbed.

Tim.

_And truth be told, I miss you (miss you)_

Honestly, for a moment you felt like a stereotypical main character of a romance film, where the girl and the boy locked eyes with each other and every watcher rolled his eyes. Not that you minded. It kept unfitting thoughts out of your head.

Like, for example, how you miss _him_.

_And truth be told, I'm lyin'_

Tim, that is. Whenever he wasn't there you couldn't feel complete. There was something _missing_ and you had no clue why.

_Tomorrow you'll be thinking to yourself_

Your eyes searched his, desperately looking for some spark in his eyes, for the confirmation that it wasn't just you that was so love sick and head-over-heels. And your mood immediately lightened as you saw just that certain spark.

To say that you felt contend was one huge understatement.

_Yeah, "where'd it all go wrong?"_

Your smile brightened as he helped you out of the car. You were sure the cameras were all on you, mainly because both of you weren't just lovey-dovey, but there was that engagement ring that you didn't even bother to hide to begin with.

_But the list goes on and on_

This time, you were sure that you wouldn't regret your yes as he asked. And you wouldn't ever be able to say no to Tim anyway. He was so charming, so cute and so protective, so, so...

He was just your prince.

_But truth be told, I miss you _

But of course you sometimes just had to thought about Antonio. His hazel eyes, his chocolate hair and his tanned body. His bright smile...

_And truth be told, I'm lying_

...And the way you thought it would be eliminated once he saw photos of the rather passionate kiss you gave Tim right now, still main aim of the photographers.

_When you see my face_

Tim chuckled a bit, knowing what you did full well, encouraging you by wrapping his arms around your waist. As you stopped, you saw his slightly disappointed grin, but he soon looked serious again. He took your hand again, before pointing out that you probably should get going.

Well, he did have a point there.

_Now you'll never see_

And you knew he would see the pictures and the ring and he'd regret how he left you behind. And truly, he'd never feel the despair you felt, but he would suffer no less. At least you hoped, because he deserved it, big time.

_What you've done to me_

You were highly satisfied as you read your favourite magazine the next week. You actually managed to be on the front page. There was no way that he wouldn't see.

No way that he could ignore this even if he intended too.

_You can take back your memories_

Speculations about the ring filled most magazines and newspapers, leaving you more than a little smug. Of course they assumed the right thing. And as you saw yourself on the news, you grinned more than a little sadistic.

That's just how life plays it's game, is it not?


	13. Never: Luciano (2PVeneziano)

**.:Never:. **

**[LucianoxReader]  
><strong>

* * *

><p><em>Luciano: 2P!Veneziano<br>_

_Flavio : 2P!Romano_

_Flavio appears, therefore some colourful language._

* * *

><p>(20:12 o'clock, Café Venezia)<p>

You hadn't quite figured out what exactly it was – but whenever it concerned relationships, you were simply out of luck.

No matter how nice and seemingly perfect your boyfriend seemed in the beginning; as soon as you got together, you'd find something out about him or you'd witness him doing something that would immediately break up.

It was somewhat strange, of course, but you couldn't really find a reason for it. So you _did_ have a bad taste in boys? That was basically the only possibility left, but that didn't quite make sense either. Because the moment you met them, they were honestly nice and funny people; by the time you grew to love them you were sure they were sincere and trustworthy.

You simply sighed in frustration; there was not the slightest thing you could do about it, really. Your only possibility was to simply try to forget all of them. Trying to move on hadn't sounded half as bad the first time this happened, but after three relationships that were rather disappointing, you decided to leave it be for a while.

Which, knowing yourself, just wouldn't work out. Kinda on accident, you met him, fell in love with his character and dated him, albeit reluctantly. You did want to trust him, that was obvious, but you were afraid that he might be trouble, too. In the end, you were just very in love and simply _wanted_ to give him a chance.

But you had the nagging feeling that you _shouldn't_ have given him his chance. He didn't do anything yet; and you had no doubt that he loved you. Trusting him proved to be difficult, though. You had to endure so much disappointment, you doubted that you'd really trust him unless you'd cross the magical two-months-boundary (which was, funnily enough, always the time you found a reason to break up).

It was interesting how you felt quarter happy, quarter hopeful, quarter doubtful and quarter scared. You really wanted it to work out, but the little pessimistic voice in your head chanted 'No good, no good, no good.'

It was your two-months anniversary date that made you throw away all care in the world. Obviously, you had crossed the line now and everything would be great!

...As if.

In any case, your spirits were high that particular evening; tat was until you received a text message that simply said **'Call me ASAP. Sorry, I know it's date night but it's important.'**

Usually you would have ignored the text message, but it was from your best friend Luciano. And while the young Italian probably wouldn't have minded if it took you a few minutes or hours to answer, you decided to do so right away. Mainly because a) he _was_ your best friend and b) because he probably wouldn't disturb your date night if it wasn't important – he knew how much you were looking forward to this, after all.

It rang only one time before Luciano picked up, not even giving you a second to greet him.

"Ciao bella!" He paused, before he once again kept talking before you could even utter one single word. "Ah, mi dispiace! È scoppiato uno scandalo. Una cosa simile non mi era mai capitata. Ho sentito una stretta al cuore: È reo di omicidio!"

"Luciano, you sound really scandalised and enraged, what's wrong?" He only ever babbled in Italian like that when he was seriously put out or nervous, sometimes even when anxious or excited. But usually not out of the blue like that (except for one endearment or two). In turn, you also grew a little nervous when he did.

"I – mio dio – you're right. I'm babbling, huh? Sorry." You could hear him inhale and exhale slowly before trying again. "It's about _him_."

"You mean – " You glanced at your boyfriend who sat next to you on a bench, sipping his milkshake. "What about him?"

You knew that Luciano couldn't stand your boyfriend – they knew each other from somewhere and acted very, very tense around each other – so you prepared yourself for a ridiculous flaw that your boyfriend obviously had; Luciano liked to point them out to you whenever you had a relationship. He was probably afraid of loosing you, even though you reminded him a few times that you'd never leave him since he's your best friend. Not that he would believe you – after his father left him, his brother and his mother alone, he had developed quite the trust issues.

"Maybe you should go a few metres away from him. It's going to be a shock." You gulped; last time he had said something similar about an ex-boyfriend of yours it was that the guy did drugs and had high debts.

Luciano always knew stuff like that, since his family – especially his brother; _only_ his brother, you liked to tell yourself – had their hands in some very shady business. You couldn't quite say whether he was in an actual organisation, but you somehow had the feeling that it was better of you knew as little as possible about it. The thing is, you're friends with Luciano _and _Flavio; so naturally the both worried for you and did a double check on your boyfriends. And they never failed to find something. Sometimes, the 'crimes' weren't big enough of a thing for you, so you chose to ignore the warnings. For example, one of your ex-boyfriends was known to cheat on girls. You thought you might be the one to change him – you obviously weren't. However, judging by his bruises, Flavio made sure he had to pay for your broken heart.

And no, you really didn't know what kind of _friends_ the brothers had that would do something like that. Like mentioned, the less you knew, the better.

You stood up and excused yourself for a second, getting a few metres distance between your boyfriend and yourself. "What's wrong with this one? Did he get in a fight once, Luciano? If it's not about drugs or something equally bad than I'm not breaking up over it!"

"He indeed did get involved in a fight..." He trailed off and you snorted.

"That's definitely not enough, okay. That can happen to every person! Jeez, you guys surely are over-protective."

"..and he killed the other guy during that fight." He said it in his rich, soothing yet equally lovely tenor as if he was already trying to console you from afar.

"W-what?" You just stuttered, shocked. "Since when did you know?"

"Fratello just found out. Are you okay, bella? Do you want me to pick you up, drive you home? You sound like you could need a bath, ice cream and some red wine."

Your heart clenched at how darling and grown-up he was acting when you couldn't because no thought would be straight.

"I... he..." You felt tears escaping your eyes as you sobbed silently. "Can you come pick me up? We're at the Café Venezia."

"On my way. Maybe you should try to break up with him while there's enough audience to stop him if he tries anything, mh?"

"I suppose your right, I'll do that." You shuddered, tears coming stronger now. "Oh god, Luciano. _Please hurry._"

* * *

><p>(23:32 o'clock, your flat.)<p>

You sat on your couch, sobbing, hugging your knees to your chest.

In your kitchen you heard a few noises that made it obvious that someone was making hot chocolate. Once again, the break-up had hurt a lot – he denied everything so vehemently, and you almost grew weak until Luciano showed up, standing protectively in front of you, telling your now e-boyfriend off. And you lost every doubt about Luciano's story when Flavio's blond head made his way through the crowd and he coldly said that the police was going to 'give his sorry ass what he fucking deserves' and that he would regret being a 'fucking stronzo'. Since Flavio wouldn't swear unless deadly enraged, you were now sure the story was true. After a short talk with an officer who stated that they were looking for 'that guy' since last September, you felt relief wash over you: who knew what would've happened if it wasn't for Flavio and Luciano?

Flavio and Luciano brought you to your apartment, Flavio all the while asking if you were okay, if you needed something, if he should bribe the officers to make _him_ hurt because he hurt you.

Then, the older brother left because he still had some work to do, and you were left with Luciano, who took – like always after a break-up – good care of you. You always felt so safe around him; unlink around other guys, who you always eyed with a certain distrust. But knowing the Italian since age four it was only logical to trust his strong hugs blindly, right?

"Some hot chocolate for the young lady. It's mother's feel-good-chocolate with extra whipped cream and marshmallows!" He exclaimed while handing you a cup of the delicious beverage. "Are you feeling a little better, [Name]?"

You nodded meekly. He took good care of you – more than one would be able to anticipate from most friends. It was a shitty situation, but he was trying to make it better and you were grateful for it.

"That's thanks to you. You're a great person, Luciano." That's why you had a crush on him for six years now; but he always treated you like a family member, and your friendship was sacred territory, no need to screw that up like it always happened once you started a relationship.

The hot chocolate was empty far too soon and you set the cup down on the table. Your whole day had been so crazy, it seemed almost unreal. Almost, wouldn't it be for the soothing hand around your shoulder – Luciano had pulled you in an embrace, softly patting your hair and mumbling in encouragement. "You'll find the perfect guy, I'm sure."

You laughed softly, hugging right back. "I probably already did – you _are _ the most amazing man I know, Luciano."

He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, chuckling. "What an honour! You're the most amazing person I know, too, so the appreciation is mutual."

A soft sigh escaped your lips. "I'm so blessed to have you in my life... Thank you for always being there and taking care of me. That's why I love you so much."

You immediately paled as the words left your lips. That was uncalled for. He was an amazing man that saw you as a close friend, that could have any woman he wanted and that probably thought you were crazy to admit that only hours after breaking up with your murderer boyfriend. You were about to panic, to play it off, to say you mean family-kind-of-love, but he beat you to it, softly kissing your lips, gently caressing your cheek. "I love you, too, [Name]. Ti amo."

Your heart beat increased and you thought you might faint with happiness. However... "Luciano, I – "

"I know, gioia. It's too soon right now. I can wait, believe me. I've waited these past five years, a few months won't break me." He kissed you again, shortly, before going back to embracing, holding.

Again, your heart fluttered at one simple thought: Luciano loved you. He wasn't going to hurt you, wasn't going to leave you. You could trust him.

Still, you wanted reassurance, needed to ask.

"You're not going to leave me, are you?" You looked up at him, eyes locking with his beautiful indigo eyes that openly, lovingly met your gaze.

"Never, gioia mia, mai e poi mai. I'd never leave you." He whispered reassuringly, pressing you close to himself, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. You couldn't see his delighted, satisfied, insane smile as he thought to himself that this was just so worth sabotaging all of your prior boyfriends; and it even was totally worth talking Flavio into killing someone and to pin the murder on this rotten guy that tried to snatch _his_ precious [Name] away. It might have been a lot of trouble to do all of it, to set all of that up; but he had the connections, the disarming nonchalance and his craving for [Name]'s love. That was all he needed. "We will be together, _forever_."

* * *

><p>AN:

So this is for ~AnimeisnotaCartoon who I met on Omegle a few days ago; sorry this is so late.

She requested something with a 2P!Character, so I chose Veneziano.

It's not really all that great, but I think I'll write more Hetalia Inserts again. I spent a lot of time in the HIMYM fandom lately and I've written for that a lot, and neglected this account. I'm sorry.

2P was used in this OS as characters that are different from the original yet somewhat similar. Like, Flavio still enjoys cursing, but won't do so until really angered. Or Luciano still cares big deal for his friends, but can be very protective if needed.

.:Italian Phrases:.  
>Ciao bella! - Hello, beauty. [Since Luciano is your friend, it's not to be considered flirting - Italians mean that in a complimenting but friendly way; even girls say that to each other, so yeah If he was a stranger it could be considered flirting. Could.]<br>Ah, mi dispiace! - Ah, I am sorry!  
>È scoppiato uno scandalo. - A real scandal has happened.<br>Una cosa simile non mi era mai capitata. - I never had to know a situation like this.  
>Ho sentito una stretta al cuore: È reo di omicidio! - My heart is achingbreaking because of it: He is a murderer!  
>Fratello - Brother<br>Stronzo - Asshole; Piece of shit; Turd.  
>Ti amo. - I love you.<br>Gioia [mia] - literally: delight, joy, pleasure; as a pet name something like darling or sweetheart.  
>Mai e poi mai. - Never ever.<p> 


End file.
